Spiral Legacy
by JamJackEvo
Summary: Naruto thought it'd be over with one final jutsu. Finally a chance to rest and see his dead loved ones. What he didn't expect was to find himself waking up inside the mindscape of a younger, red-haired Naruto and in a world clearly different from his own.
1. Naruto Reborn

Date written: 25/04/10 – 08/05/10

Posted on FanFiction: 01/06/10

A/N: I always wanted to write a non-serious Naruto fic. Now this here is just an experiment on writing a Naruto with a devil-may-care attitude, with some odd quirks thrown in just for the sake of it. This is categorized in the Humor genre for a reason, yet do not even think for one second that there are _no_ serious moments in this. It's Humor, not Parody. As far as the Naruto universe goes in its grasp of human psychology and unwavering sense of forgiveness (would you still give pardon to an S-Class missing nin like Sasuke? Forgive him after killing the Rokudaime Kouho, Danzo?) that I sometimes wish I could go there, befriend Naruto, and rampage everywhere, anytime just for Naruto to stop all attempts of people killing me. What a chilling and tempting thought . . .

In this story, Naruto will retain that sense of morality and forgiveness, but I also want to implement the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder that goes beyond the normal ones found in war-experienced soldiers. In the Naruto universe, nobody is satisfied with normal. Hahaha. I'm not that proficient in Psychology (I've only gotten a basic rundown of the subject), so don't expect me to go all technical and factual in my long paragraphs, much less make things overcomplicated. But the fact still remains, Naruto _will_ be different. I've already found a fitting theme song for him when he's in his carefree façade: "A Pair of Idiots" from the Clannad OST. Just search YouTube for the song, and you'll have a better understanding of what I have in mind. And while you're at it, if you're looking for a funny but tear-jerking anime to watch I strongly recommend Clannad. I haven't shed so much manly tears in one sitting, let alone with just _one_ anime series.

_**Disclaimer:**__ This is purely fictional _and_ fanfictional. None of the characters present in this story are considered canon to the original Naruto series, which is owned by Masashi Kishimoto. But the OC's belong to me, while the original concept of the story belongs to __**Grining Prey**__. Even when he quitted, he's forever grinning._

* * *

**- CHAPTER 1 -**

**Naruto Reborn**

Naruto knew it was suicidal. There was no big sign to tell him it was so, no person to inform him, no cosmic revelation to predict that what he was about to do would either put the whole planet in jeopardy due to some reality-breaking stuff he didn't have the brains to completely comprehend, or Madara would just survive it and then the shit would _really_ hit the fan this time. Too bad that whether he could pull it off or not, he wouldn't be around to see what his actions would do to the world.

He was twenty-two years old (twenty-three if he'd survive for another six weeks), and the so-called child of the prophecy who would be the turning point of the ninja world. Bring the world to darkness or save it with all the imperfections intact. Tough choice; didn't mean he could choose with just mere words. Actions were the medium for his choice, and quite frankly it wasn't enough to get what he wanted out of the Morton's fork, choosing between a rock and a hard place and all that. Therefore, he was left with the default option: let the world be subjected to Madara's global illusion.

But many people had counted on him, sacrificed their lives for him. If he were to give up now, then everything they had done for him would just be in vain. And Naruto was too honor-bound to let the lives of his precious people be wasted because of his resignation to fate. He didn't believe it, after all, so _why_ should he? He was Naruto Uzumaki, the epitome of diehard.

The war had escalated to continental proportions, and nothing was spared from Madara's tyranny in the land. Naruto conducted a special mission to breach through Madara's base of operations, bypass all of his guards (including Kabuto, the Orochi-wannabe), and face the man himself. But this would not be completed without a diversion to drive most of Madara's forces and the bijuu away from the final battle. Most of the plan had been flawless (and why wouldn't it? Shikamaru was the one who thought it up!), but fighting Madara was no easy task in and of itself. Naruto had to use every trick up his sleeve and the lessons he had learned throughout the years before he could even get close to the guy and seal up his teleportation ability or whatever-he-called-it. Now it was just a simple case of killing the guy permanently.

Not much success in that department, apparently. Madara also had a few more tricks up his sleeve, and Naruto had been ill-prepared. Naruto was beaten, his team wiped out, leaving him the sole survivor of the botched up mission. And now Madara was finalizing the ritual in reconstructing the Juubi since the final piece of the puzzle had waltzed right into his greedy hands. How fucked up could this get?

So here Naruto was now, in the middle of another Morton's fork for him to decide the fate of the world and also his own. You see, during his training in mastering the bijuu inside him, he stumbled upon an ancient technique that had been created by the legendary Rikudou Sennin himself. Apparently, the man had a slight case of autophobia, fear of his own self. Rather, he was afraid of the beast he had sealed within himself taking over his mind and continuing its carnage at the world. So what better way to prevent such a tragedy from ever occurring again by simply dying and then dragging the beast with you to the pits of Hell?

Yes, this was why Naruto knew it was suicidal: it was a suicide jutsu from the very start!

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the person's viewpoint, the jutsu was made solely for a Juubi jinchuuriki's suicide attempt, therefore the backlash of the Kyuubi's destruction would be catastrophic since it is pretty much unstable and incomplete chakra fueled by human malice and hatred. Destruction awaited this place and he was sure that the surrounding little towns near here would no doubt be affected by the blast, but it was the only way to ensure the safety of the world. Well, at least safety from Madara's iron fist tyranny, he supposed. Frankly, after what happened throughout his twenty-two years of life in this world and how whatever deity watching over them seemed to look the other way when good people—even Naruto's precious people—die because of their involvement with the Kyuubi jinchuuriki, he began to care less and less of what would happen to the world and the people in it. Not enough to disregard the slaying of innocents, though. Apart from his precious people, he would just tell everyone else to go copulate themselves. He didn't know when he had been dubbed 'cynical' and a 'smartass,' but he'd rather think of them as the symptoms of the next stage of his coping mechanism when the whole blond-idiot-who-is-always-happy-go-lucky façade began to show its age and dullness. His new attitude sure gave him a new life outlook and lots of ammunition for disparaging his opponents, but it also distanced him with his precious people. Ah, there was no use thinking anything else. All of his loved ones were dead, and he'd really like to at least kill the antique Uchiha before he met his end.

So he asked himself mere seconds away from forming the two final hand seals of the suicide jutsu: _What awaits me after death?_

No one was there to give him an answer. And it was probably for the better. The jutsu did its part quite nicely, and the image of seeing Madara Uchiha disintegrate into dust, screaming and squirming, right in front of his eyes before the cold, dank clutches of death gripped his soul and claimed him was undoubtedly priceless.

With the prophecy fulfilled, somewhat, Naruto Uzumaki died with a smile.

* * *

_But why do I get the feeling that it's not yet R.I.P. for me?_

Naruto came to that question when he had finally lost every feeling in his five senses. And he was beginning to think that the deity that pretty much liked screwing up his life with prophecies and wars and all that life-is-unfair montage was not yet done with its little human toy.

His senses only had a momentary pause before they reset. First off was touch. And boy did it welcome him with a warm embrace, a scorching, _pain_-inducing embrace that made Sasuke's improved Tsukuyomi attack feel like a baby's slap. It was almost like the Kyuubi's chakra engulfing his very soul with its malevolent will, like it was angry or annoyed . . . or probably PMSing without menstruating. The fox definitely needed some anger management.

Next came the smell. The environment had that familiar scent in his fragmented memories of being rushed into the operating room and Tsunade-baa-chan saving his life at one time or another, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why he recalled the OR's _scent_, of all things. He also smelled blood, and he was certain it was his. His taste buds then kicked in and he could even taste the thick liquid in his mouth.

His sense of hearing returned, too, and he listened to the frantic orders and mutters of the doctors and nurses inside the room, the constant beeping of a heart monitor next to him. There was one voice in the group that was much louder than the others, her no-nonsense tone and steeled emotions even in the face of a patient lying between the boundaries of life and death were enough hints for Naruto to guess that it was Tsunade leading the operation. But then a simple memory came back to his groggy mind, and Naruto realized that his guess was only wishful thinking; Tsunade had been dead for four months now. It was probably someone who sounded like her. Yeah.

Just to be sure that his eyesight hadn't been damaged from the _supposed_ suicide jutsu (never trust old scrolls again!), he let them slowly bathe into the glaring lights above him. Squinted at first, so as not to be overwhelmed, his eyes blinked while opening a tad bit wider for every interval. His strength was low and his breathing ragged. An oxygen mask was on his mouth and the nurses were rushing left and right inside his peripheral vision, but they had the shapes of blobs in distorted white and fleshy colors. His overall vision was as blurry as a camera out of focus.

"Dammit! He's not responding to the meds!" the Tsunade-like voice cursed.

"It's his healing factor," one of the nurses said. "His body is probably counteracting them."

"Shit! Give him another shot and double the dosage. We can't risk him waking up at a time like this."

"But, Tsunade-sama, he's already close to overdosing and with his immune system cou—"

"Just do it!"

The nurse seemed to hesitate. Then: "Yes, ma'am."

Whatever anesthesia they administered to his body took effect almost immediately. His regained senses weakened and dulled, and their embrace was replaced with the cold arms of sleep. Darn. He wanted to check if he heard the nurse right when she called that blonde-haired doctor 'Tsunade-sama.' Maybe it was just a woman with the same name as the Godaime Hokage. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

And Naruto knew no more.

* * *

As the red lights of the OR sign flickered and then faded, a buxom blonde in a surgeon's outfit walked out of the double doors below the sign, her expression weary and exhausted. Sitting alone on one of the chairs next to the OR was an equally tired woman, who stood right up when the blonde neared her. She had that stance that made her seem prepared for the blunt truth of the situation's severity. Needless to say, the woman wasn't expecting a great resolution to all this.

"We did all we could," the blonde said after a long sigh, her brown eyes looking straight at the other woman's worried gray eyes. "He'll be fine, but the damage was"—she paused, not sure how to word it without making it too blunt for the receiver—"life-threatening." Crap, still blunt. Ah well, she wasn't always good at this kind of thing, which was why she let the nurses talk to the people in the waiting room instead of her. Whether in physical strength or verbal declarations, she didn't hold back her punches. But she couldn't do it this time because the patient and the patient's mother were people she knew deeply.

The gray-eyed woman licked her dry lips. "Is Naruto . . .?"

"Going to be one-hundred percent okay? I doubt it. Scarred, but he'll pull through. Thought we lost him for a couple minutes, but his healing factor alone restarted his heart, surprising everyone in the operating room."

"I thought I'd never see the day to be thankful for the Kyuubi's presence inside him." The woman brushed strands of her long crimson hair behind her ear. She meant for the sentence to be taken lightly, but in her tired state it almost sounded cynical.

"I wouldn't think so."

"Why?"

"If it hadn't been for the Kyuubi, he wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place. You weren't here when he was brought in. He had multiple deep gashes with faint traces of wind chakra. His skull was cracked in two places, blunt force. No signs of brain damage . . . again, courtesy of his healing factor. He also had eight kunai embedded on his back. One punctured his left lung, two were dangerously close from stabbing his heart and spinal cord. When that ANBU operative arrived in the hospital's doorstep, I thought that he was carrying a bloody piece of meat he got from the slaughterhouse. Never in my years as a medic-nin could prepare me to see a five-year-old child look so . . . so . . ."

The woman sobbed. "I failed him. I told him that I'd protect him, yet I . . ." She sat back down, drowning in the sorrow of her mistake.

The blonde stood there, unsure how to proceed. She had no previous experience with consoling people after the news was broken to them, but this was a different case. For one, the patient didn't die. But still, the woman breaking down in front of her was the only kunoichi who was able to convince her to stay in Konoha, and by doing so, she was able to regain something she had lost and the old wounds had finally begun to heal.

"Kushina," she called, sitting down on the seat next to the redhead, "it's going to be all right." Her hand went to the woman's shoulder.

"I put too much faith in this village." She clenched her fists. "Only a ninja could have done those things to my son. A ninja blinded with hatred."

"I'll be sure to report this to the Hokage as soon as possible. The ANBU only found him by chance. He had been left for dead."

"Where's Naruto now?"

"He's being moved into a new room. We gave him enough sedatives to sleep through the night and probably for the rest of the morning, so I suggest you catch some shut-eye too."

"No," Kushina retorted. "I want to be with Naruto. I can't leave him alone after what happened tonight."

"I knew you'd say that." The blonde smiled. "That's why I specified that Naruto be moved into a room with two beds."

She understood the implications right away. "But Tsunade-ba-chan . . ."

Tsunade shook her head, raising a hand in gesture for her to be silent. "Come on, I'll take you there."

". . . thank you."

"I'm the kid's godmother." Tsunade had a smirk on her face. "No harm in a bit of spoiling, right?"

* * *

Naruto had grown used to the swift change in perception even when he hadn't been into this place for a long time. From the encroaching darkness flooding his vision until sleep came for him to the feeling of being wide awake inside the dank and reddish sewers of the fox's mindscape intertwined with his own. But the feel of the place seemed off. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the place looked to be . . . less dank, maybe.

"Wonder what the furball wants?"

Naruto usually didn't acquaint himself with the fox, and the few times he had come to this mindscape was only because of chance or desperation or both. The fox hated him, and he hated the fox. It was as simple as that. Maybe when he was still a teen, he must've wished for a harmonious relationship with his tenant, but after years and years of trying to get the fox to see reason and make its stay inside his belly less of a nightmare getting rejected at every turn, he began to lose hope of ever taming the beast completely like Killer Bee did. Before that special mission which inadvertently led him to his current predicament, he had mastered the Kyuubi's demonic chakra and could take it from the fox at will, but the way he was taking it was considered stealing than willingly given. As such, his prowess was still incomplete. Still, it was better than nothing, and the added control over the demonic cloak was a godsend whenever he was ambushed by bounty hunters who took up Madara's offer.

So with all that said, it left Naruto to wonder why he had come into the mindscape. He wasn't the one who made the house call, after all.

Walking along the one-way path, he wandered through intersections and dark corridors. The only way for him to get some answers was to find the main room where the fox resided behind its cage, but Naruto found no sense of familiarity inside this sewer maze. Even in his brief stays within the mindscape before this one had come with that feeling of instinct where his legs did the travelling while his thoughts observed the shapes and colors of the place and memorizing the corridors he passed. He used that knowledge to work his way around the place now, but it was like giving a blind man a map to read.

In a nutshell, he was lost inside his own mind. How more fucked could he be?

Time had a different meaning inside a mindscape, though, so Naruto couldn't be sure if three hours really did pass or just three minutes. With his rotten luck in the past few months, he wouldn't be surprised if he had been asleep for three whole days. Regardless, he had finally found the lair of the great, bad fox. The sight that welcomed him was the usual cage and the seal embedded at the center, but there was a slight addition in the center of the room.

There was a little boy in here, sleeping on ankle-deep water. The weird thing about it was that the kid was floating like a boat.

"Huh. You don't see that every day," Naruto muttered. He walked towards the kid, spotting his dark red hair and whiskered cheeks. Naruto unconsciously traced his own marks.

Whether it was because the kid sensed his presence or the low growl coming from the beast inside its cage woke him up, Naruto knew that it was best to hide in the shadows. He wanted to know at least a bit more about the kid before he confronted him, wanted to discern if this was just a ploy for the fox to try and escape its prison.

The boy rose, rubbing his eyes to ward off the rest of his sleep. When he raised his arms to stretch, his floating ability somehow deactivated and he was left sputtering and struggling through very shallow water, panicking that he was drowning and he wanted his mommy.

Naruto found the scene very much hilarious, and he had to bite his lip to silence the booming laugh that wanted to burst out of his mouth. He also tried to minimize the shaking of his shoulders. No luck with that. His amusement had to have _some_ outlet for its release.

When the kid had calmed down, berating himself that he got excited over water that couldn't possibly drown him, another low growl coming from the other side of seal got his attention.

"Come here, kit," the low voice of the Kyuubi ordered. The boy stiffened, almost struggling, then came closer to the bars of the Kyuubi's prison. "Yes, yes, just like that. Closer . . ."

Naruto's eyes narrowed. This scene looked familiar, a faint recollection of what occurred back when he first encountered the fox behind its cage. The kid didn't seem to look afraid or even taking cautious steps towards the voice that undoubtedly sounded like a pedophilic stalker charming his newest boy toy. It made Naruto feel ill just thinking of it. But he was more worried about the boy than the unnecessary images he implanted into his thoughts.

He was getting too close to the prison. And Naruto just knew that it wouldn't end well.

"Get away from there!" Naruto yelled, breaking the boy out of his trance and making him stop midstride, right before the malevolent presence of the Kyuubi's paw shot out to try and grab the boy.

The boy escaped by a hair-thin gap between his face and those sharp giant claws. And like all kids that got scared out of their minds, he bolted away from the seal, screaming "Monster!" But he must've momentarily forgotten about the ankle-deep water his feet were in, and he tripped and splashed face-first into it.

With a sigh, Naruto stepped out of the shadows and confronted the towering appearance of the Kyuubi. "What's the big idea, furball?"

The Kyuubi only shot a glance before he started bashing his claws at his prison. "You! You!"

"Yeah, Kyuubi. It's me, myself, and I. Too starstruck to politely say, 'May I have your autograph?'"

"You insolent monkey! I'll kill you."

"Come on, furball, I know you can threaten me better than that. Where's the killing intent, the passion, the compulsion, the slight hitch in your voice whenever you try to say 'I'm gay!'?"

The fox's eyes narrowed. "I've never said such a thing."

" 'Oh, I love cock, really,'" he continued with that slight hitch.

"I said I never said such things!"

Naruto raised a brow. "Prove it."

"Okay, then—wait. Damn you! How _dare_ you mock me?"

_He noticed it just now, huh. _"It's better than staying quiet and absorb your verbal abuse." He shrugged. "I'd like to think I'm retaliating than insulting you."

The Kyuubi growled ferociously. "Mark my words, Yondaime, I _will_ have your head for this!"

"Yondaime?" Naruto chose to ignore it for the time being. Well, he should wrap this up; he already had his fun with the furball. He glanced at the boy, seeing that he was looking at him and the giant fox back and forth with a look of utter bewilderment. Looking bored at the Kyuubi, he said, "So why were you trying to lead this kid into your lair? You sounded like a sick pedophile with that voice earlier."

The Kyuubi kept bashing at its cage. The floor rattled due to the impact as the fox strained itself in getting out of its damn prison, so that it could grab the blond nuisance and be sure to deliver a very painful end to his unfortunate soul.

"I don't think I'll be getting much answers from him in his rage," Naruto commented, more likely talking to himself than directing his speech to the boy standing beside him. Still, the boy looked at him and nodded. "Well, Kyuubi, if you can still listen to me, I'd like to just say that we're leaving. No offense, but your mere presence is scaring the kid half to death."

"Then let your monkey brat die so you wouldn't have to worry about him being half dead," the Kyuubi growled, still on his mad but futile rampage inside its prison.

"Nah, that's a horrible idea," he said offhandedly. His next sentence was directed to the boy: "Let's say we go somewhere quiet."

With a snap of his fingers, Naruto and the boy were transported into the white room. This had been the same place he and his father had that final father-and-son talk before Naruto had to come back to the real world to finish off the fight with Pein.

"Sorry you had to see that, kid," he said, rubbing the back of his head and looking sheepish. "The fox has chronic PMS issues even when he's a male."

The boy didn't say a thing, probably not hearing what Naruto had said. He only stared at him, slack jawed. He also blinked a few times, as if trying to force his eyes that what they were seeing in front of him was an illusion. Then with a shaky breath, he uttered, "Dad?"

"Uh . . ." Naruto scratched his right cheek. "No, I'm not your Dad, kid."

"But you look so much like him." The boy's hand shifted to his own cheeks. "And we have the same marks on our cheeks. Well, you didn't have them in Mom's pictures of you, but . . ." He stopped, unsure how to proceed.

"What's your name?" Naruto didn't know what else to ask.

"Naruto."

"I said what's your name, kid." Surely the boy must've confused his question or something. No way would his name be—

"Naruto! My name is Naruto Uzumaki."

Naruto stared. Apart from the whiskered cheeks, the kid didn't look a tad bit _like him_. And his name happened to be the same as his own? Not only that, they were inside his own mindscape. It would have been so easy and much less complex if Naruto were to believe that this boy with the slightly tamed red hair and the dark gray eyes—complete contrasts to his spiky blond hair and sky blue eyes—was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. But if he were to think really hard on this situation, he would realize that no other being existed inside this mindscape (apart from the Kyuubi and a piece of his Dad's soul), so that preferred escape through ignorance was shot out. Sometimes Naruto wished he didn't wise up. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

"If you're not my Dad," chibi-Naruto said, "then who are you?"

"Look, Naruto"—man, did it feel weird talking to someone who shared the same name—"I need to clarify something about you first."

"What's clarify?"

"To make clear."

"Oh."

"So what was the last thing you remember before waking up in this place?"

Chibi-Naruto's face scrunched up. Naruto had heard many jokes from his friends that whenever he thought really hard about something, his face would scrunch up the same way this kid was showing. It didn't alleviate his worries, but merely added a lot of coal in the fire.

"I was waiting for my Mom to get back home. She got called to Hokage-jiji's office. When she left, some white-haired ninja kicked the door of our house and tied me up. He said"—chibi-Naruto's voice hitched—"that he was going to kill me for killing Tsubaki over and over. He smelled funny, too."

Tsubaki . . . that name ringed a bell, somehow. Even a white-haired ninja that was involved with this Tsubaki. White hair . . . Tsubaki . . .

_Wait! Tsubaki was Mizuki's former lover. Then that means—_

"I don't know where he took me, but just the way the ninja looked at me . . . it was scary. When we stopped, he started doing something with his hands like this"—he started doing the motions for hand seals but nothing except the Tiger seal were correct—"and . . . I don't remember."

Naruto could already tell what happened even without proof. But the blanks he filled into this kid's story were outside the logic of reality since a) Mizuki had committed suicide three years ago; and b) Tsubaki was killed in action the year after that.

Where the heck was he, the Twilight Zone or something?

"I want my Mom."

Naruto swallowed. None of what was happening made any sense, and this visitor seemed hell-bent in making him even more confused. But throughout the conversation with the boy, he couldn't detect even a single lie. Chibi-Naruto was either telling the truth or he was merely a figment of his madness rather than imagination. God knew that Naruto must've snapped at some point during his hellish life.

"What's your mother's name?"

"Kushina Uzumaki."

Yeah. That deity really had it in for him, huh? Naruto really wished he could tell the deity to go copulate itself.

Resigning to the unsolvable mysteries inside this mindscape, Naruto extended his hand to the kid, and said, "Well, let's go look for her, Naruto-kun." He suppressed a shudder. Was talking to yourself—a red-haired and gray-eyed version of yourself that is probably seventeen years your junior—still considered madness? It should be, Naruto decided.

Chibi-Naruto looked at his hand warily at first before reaching for it with his own little limb. When their hands touched, both felt a sudden jolt of electricity and magnetic attraction. Naruto was able to let go in time before the two of them collided with each other, but the short seconds of contact left him groggy and adorning a painful headache.

He remembered the face of a beautiful redhead smiling down on him.

He remembered the soothing lullaby she sang to him as he slowly lulled to sleep.

He remembered the questions he asked her about his father and the country she had originally been in.

These were alien memories; memories of a childhood that couldn't possibly have happened to him. Yet he could never mistake the face of the one who gave birth to him. It was Kushina Uzumaki inside those memories. Kushina Uzumaki, his mother. His _mother_! He had only ever seen her in old pictures, but he could never mistake that angelic face with another.

When he came to his senses again and numbed the pain in his head, he tried to make sense of the rest of the memories that were somehow transferred from the kid to him. Naruto couldn't possibly think of any other explanation than that. It hurt too much to think anything else right now.

And as he sorted through these interesting viewpoint of a life he could've lived if his mother had survived his birth, Naruto noticed too late that he had been alone in the white room throughout it.

* * *

Kushina Uzumaki had gone through plenty of grief during her twenty-eight years of life. Her mother died when she was five due to an illness incurable at the time. And if that hadn't been enough, her home, her whole village, had been swept away by a flash flood while her team was out on a C-rank mission. Kushina always had a feeling that a village situated so close to the ocean would bring trouble. She also suspected foul play, that a flash flood large enough to level the whole village had to have been artificial. But there was no trace or evidence that she could acquire, and her suspicions of Chigiri no Sato's (_**tr.**_ Village of the Bloody Mist) involvement remained as speculation. With the Uzu daimyo's decision to disband the ninja system in the Land of Whirlpool, Kushina and her team, along with a few other Uzu ninjas who weren't in the village at the time, were left with two options: leave the life of a shinobi and become civilians, or remain in the path and charge forward. That had always been a quote her father used to tell her, and she wasn't about to break it.

Unfortunately, she was the only one in the three-man cell to remain as a shinobi, so she was pretty much on her own. Her sensei did try to persuade her to give this dangerous life up, but she couldn't even think of a life other than being a ninja. When the former Uzu jounin asked her where she would go, to whom she would pledge her services to, she answered one simple word: Konoha.

She had been in Konoha before, back when she was only four. Her mother and her side of the family, the Hasegawa clan, were originally from that ninja village. The Uzumaki family had gone there once for a family reunion, and Kushina had gotten to know a lot of the different cultures in that country, not to mention joining in on the pranking streaks of her cousins. Konoha politics might be weary of her at first, but at least she had a chance to reunite with what was left of her family. Bad news awaited Kushina, though. The Sandaime informed her that the Hasegawa family was one of the many casualties in a Kamikaze attack from Iwa during the Second Great Shinobi War, which would not end for another eight months. But the Hokage did not turn away her willingness to join Konoha.

The rest of her life inside Konoha had been rough at first, but they got better through time. She found love in that village and even started her own family. Sadly, her happiness was short-lived when her lover sacrificed his life to save Konoha from the Kyuubi's rampage, ending up with the sealing of the bijuu inside their own son. If Tsunade hadn't been there when she delivered, she might've died from postpartum hemorrhaging and left Naruto as an orphan. Bleeding to death was not something Kushina considered a great way for a kunoichi to die, especially when it came from childbirth. She persevered through the days of being bedbound, and at least she had all the time in the world in taking care of her infant son now that Minato was dead. There was not a trace of Minato in him, though. Oftentimes she wished that Naruto had looked more like her father than her mother, but never meant it. Naruto would always be Naruto to her.

And now she almost lost him, too. Throughout her son's growth, he had always been weak. Pale as ivory, thin to the brink of appearing like an anorexic, and heavy bags under his eyes. The Kyuubi's chakra inside his system acted like a slow poison, killing the victim in a snail's pace. As for food: from breastfeeding to solid foods, Naruto would rather have little scraps than eat everything in his plate. Give him a bowl of ramen, he'd sip around five teaspoonful of the broth and only nibble on the noodles. There were a lot of times when she had to force him to eat a lot more than he wanted. She wasn't proud of doing this to her own son, but he was already thin as it was; she was afraid he'd die of starvation. It was a wonder that he had survived for over five years.

There was also the matter with the villagers to think about. Ever since the Sandaime made it public knowledge to everyone in Konoha (except for the younger generation) that the Kyuubi was sealed inside Minato's illegitimate son, the villagers divided into two factions which Kushina had called the 'Ignorant blamers' and the 'Smart people.' The latter people were more accepting of Naruto's status as a jinchuuriki, though there were still bits of fear she sensed in their actions and expressions. They tolerated Naruto, as if he were some permanent disease they had to live with, but most of the time they wanted nothing to do with him. The Ignorant blamers, however, were a more outspoken group in their hatred towards the disaster that brought many deaths to the village. They used Naruto as a scapegoat in their grief, pinning all the blame on him because he housed the Kyuubi. Many attempted to persuade the Konoha council to kill him, with little to no success; few even dared to take matters into their own hands. Out of the twelve attempts at Naruto's life, only one succeeded . . . partially.

Naruto still lived, but Kushina was afraid what this trauma could do to him. Tsunade made it a point not to discuss the extent of Naruto's injuries to her until the Senju medic-nin submitted her full report to the Hokage. It would not help his case if Kushina suddenly went on a rampaging path of vengeance, seeking the horrible man who almost killed her son, without reporting this first to the leader of the village. The evil of politics. Gah!

When Naruto awoke around lunchtime, he seemed chipper than Kushina would've guessed after surviving such a traumatic event. She called for Tsunade, and the Slug Princess gave the boy one final checkup to be double-sure that he was fit to leave the hospital.

"Mom, why am I here?" Naruto asked as Tsunade did her checkup.

"What do you remember last night, Naruto-kun?" Tsunade questioned, her chakra-covered hands scanning for any lasting damage on the boy's body. Apart from increased brainwave activity, there were no anomalies to be found. Not even a faint scar on his unblemished skin.

His face scrunched up in concentration. "I remember hearing someone kicking the door open and shouting out something."

"Anything else?"

He shook his head. "I remember the cool dream I had, though. Does that count?"

"No." _He probably repressed his memories by his own._ Her eyebrows furrowed as she shifted her hands towards Naruto's stomach. _Or the Kyuubi had something to do with it. Maybe._

"It was a really cool dream, though," Naruto continued, his trademark foxy smile adorned. "I was walking to this_ really_ huge cage because some voice inside it told me to go there. Then somebody shouted 'Get away from there!' so suddenly that I was catched by surprise."

"Caught, Naruto-chan," Kushina interjected. "It's caught."

"Yeah, caught. The shouter probably saved me from getting grated by these _really_ huge claws that appeared from inside the cage." He mimicked the motion, but after a quick retort from Tsunade to stay still, he substituted for smaller movements. "I think it was the Kyuubi inside that cage."

The two women looked flabbergasted, but Naruto didn't see it.

"And Dad was also there. He showed the Kyuubi who was boss, believe it!"

Tsunade looked at Kushina, who looked back. There was a silent conversation going between them that Naruto didn't even notice as he went on with how his father denied that it was him (but Naruto knew better, hah!) and when they were about to touch hands he woke up.

Tsunade seemed to think that the fox must have been trying to possess Naruto, but Kushina silently argued that this was not so. She had been here through the whole night, sleeping in the same room as Naruto, and with her honed senses to danger (a trait she'd gotten from her Uzu ninja training) she would've noticed if there was even a small _speck_ of demonic chakra leaking in her son's system. Demonic chakra has that malevolent presence to it, like the feeling of terror and vertigo as you stare at the ground from the sky.

"So," Kushina interjected, stopping Naruto from elaborating more about his dream, "what's the verdict?"

"He's free to leave the hospital. No use keeping him here when he's a hundred percent healthy."

"Are you sure? No lasting damage?"

"At first, I thought there would be. But apparently we've underestimated the extent of his healing factor. Nothing is amiss." She then chuckled. "With this kind of trait, I wouldn't be surprised if he regrew bones or even repaired a damaged eye."

"I'm cool that way," Naruto said, although he wasn't sure why she was praising his healing. Didn't other people heal the same?

"Don't get cocky, brat." Though she said that, truthfully she was glad her godson wouldn't be suffering any kind of trauma from the experience. He didn't seem to remember what happened to him after he had been kidnapped by the ninja, and his current state was as if he had never been injured at all. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she said to Kushina.

The redhead nodded, telling Naruto to stay put, and both women stepped outside the room. "I'll be adding into the medical report of Naruto's repressed memories. If we want justice to be served, I believe it's best if we let a Yamanaka dive into Naruto's psyche."

"And let my son remember _and_ relive the traumatizing event? I would have to say no, even if it means we have to bag the motherfucker the hard way."

Tsunade pursed her lips. "It's not my decision, Kushina. But at least hear the Yamanaka clan out _if_ the Hokage suggests you do this. There may be a part of their clan's techniques which keeps Naruto's memories repressed while they rummage around for the image of the culprit."

Kushina was silent. She then said, "Will they guarantee Naruto's mental stability?"

"Years ago, I've had a case similar to this one, and the patient came out fine in that regard."

"Who was that patient?"

"Classified information. Doctor's oath to secrecy, you understand."

"Yeah . . ."

"Look, whether you agree to this or not, I'm supporting your decision all the way."

Kushina showed her surprise right away. "Tsunade-ba-chan . . ."

"We want what's best for the little guy, and if you believe that it's better to not irritate the bandaged wounds then I'm all for it. Mother knows best, after all."

Kushina chuckled. "You're a mother, too, you know."

"Yet it seems I seem to spend more time with work than with my daughter."

Her good-natured chuckle turned to a nervous one.

The door to Naruto's hospital room opened and the boy himself peeked out. "Mom, I'm kinda hungry." His stomach's growl would attest to that statement.

_Well, that's new,_ Kushina thought. _Naruto-chan rarely asked for food. Not to mention this is the first time I heard his stomach growl._

"Tsunade-ba-chan, do you think—"

"That this could be a side effect of the healing factor?" The older woman was fully aware of Naruto's reaction to the Kyuubi's presence in his system, and like Kushina, was caught by utter surprise at the scene played out before them. "Probably. He would need to have _some_ source other than pure chakra to heal all those wounds, and it looks like he must've depleted it."

"I hope that's the only side effect. _Really_ hope." She then said to Naruto, "What do you want for lunch, Aka-chan?"

Naruto groaned. He _hated_ that nickname. "How about ramen?"

"Ramen, you say?" She grinned. "Then how about we head down to Ichiraku after we're done here?"

"Really? All right!"

"Quiet, brat," Tsunade scolded. "We're in a hospital."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"He's free to go. Do try to get him something to eat. He'll need it."

"I sure will, Tsunade-ba-chan." She then hugged the woman. "Thanks for everything today."

"It's the least I could do." Tsunade returned the smile Kushina gave her.

Taking Naruto's hand in hers, she said to him, "Let's get some ramen, Naruto-chan."

* * *

Back inside the inner chambers of Naruto's mindscape, the blond-haired, twenty-two-year-old version of Naruto was done skimming through five years' worth of memories, and he couldn't help himself in comparing the parallelism and vast difference (as contrary as it sounded) between this world and the world he had left behind—specifically, the world he had no choice but to sacrifice his life for, because he was _fated_ to do so. In a nutshell, the world that fucked him up. Royally. Anyway, the comparisons he found were not quite what he had envisioned for a fresh start. He didn't go to heaven, so something must've gone wrong with the jutsu. The best thing Naruto could think of was that his soul had been transported into an alternate reality where he had been born to look more like his mother than his father. That, and pretty much Konoha as a whole looked _entirely_ different than in his world.

For starters, Tsunade Senju _never_ left the village. Apparently his mother had something to do with that, around a few years before he was born. The story leading to Tsunade's intention of leaving Konoha was still pretty much intact, but the point of divergence from what he had always known was when his mother confronted her about her leaving. They argued—which he learned from the Shizune of this world that it had been a common occurrence during those days—and then, like when Naruto and Tsunade first met in the old world, a bet was made. And since Tsunade was also known as "The Legendary Sucker" in this world, the winner of the bet was obvious. Tsunade honored the bet's condition that she would stay if she lost, and subsequently she ended up starting a family in Konoha and had a daughter named Chiyome, who was around three years older than him. After that, Kushina and Tsunade became quite close friends.

He figured this all out from Chiyome herself when his redheaded self asked her about why their mothers were very close. She didn't get the full details of the story (if she did, he would've known _what_ the bet was, because he was damn curious about it), but the gist of it was enough to sedate his curiosity. A little for him, anyway; his redheaded counterpart believed that Chiyome's story was the full picture, so _his_ curiosity was fully sedated.

The second difference was the layout of the village. The basic foundation of the area was the same, but the structures (the houses, the towers, Ichiraku Ramen, among others) were no longer where they were, as if he was entering a Konoha that had its buildings' locations scrambled and swapped. For example, the Hokage Monument in the original reality was situated in the center of the village. In this one, the monument is located at the Northeastern side of the village, attached to the corner boundaries, and is curved inward rather than outward, forming a C-shaped twenty-story wall around the Hokage Tower built in the very middle.

Basically, this was a reality seventeen years behind his own, yet any kind of foreknowledge he had was next to useless since none of it would connect well to what had already occurred in this reality. His foreknowledge in the general may be of some help, but not much. It might sound fun predicting what was about to come correctly, but most of what he could remember were the bad things, since the previous world was adamant in its mission in supplying Naruto with enough grief to drown the ocean. This time, he cursed Fate to go copulate itself out loud.

Well, as far as he knew, he would have to get comfortable for now. The mindscape he had conjured up by the snap of a finger was impressive, but the white emptiness was starting to scare him, what with the echoes (_—go copulate yourself . . . –pulate yourself . . . late yourself . . . yourself . . . yourself . . ._) and endless no-colors theme. It was as if he had stepped into a padded room for the insane. If that was so, then it was a fitting place, although that didn't mean he liked it.

_Well, what worked once should work again_, he thought cheerfully as he once more snapped his fingers with the thought of what to conjure. The entire area morphed into Naruto's old apartment, complete with empty ramen cups he never gave time to pick off the floor and throw into the garbage bin. Ever since the Akatsuki started a more offensive course of action in the war, Naruto barely had time to relax, much less clean after himself. The most down time he had before the Hokage gave him another mission was one night, which he slept through.

He lay down on the bed, arms crossing behind his head, and yawned. Blowing out air through his mouth like a horse's mouth-snort, he stared at the gray ceiling. Everything was in perfect detail, all the way down to the wavy cracks that looked like cartoon sea waves, the brown spots where the paint had been chipped off, and the dark stains where rain water leaked through the tiny crevices. Naruto picked his apartment as his mindscape's scenery because it was familiar and a place he knew he'd be in his element, even if it was just an imagined place based on the real one, but this was the first time that he concentrated on the little details so as not to think of any other thought. But try as he could, he was still Naruto Uzumaki, and Naruto Uzumaki was known to have a short attention span outside training and ninja-related activities. Stray thoughts concerning his current predicament always burst into the forefront no matter how many times he distracted himself. Other than observing the bland, rain-stained ceiling, he went to the kitchen and started counting his kitchen utensils, drinking containers, and food products, like a man with OCD on counting. The stray thoughts breached his defenses. He tried closing his eyes and counted sheep; he got to fifty-nine when the stray thoughts attacked again.

And he promised to never count sheep again because he found fifty-nine of the fluffy white BAA!-ing creatures inside his bedroom, which expanded in size to accommodate them.

"This is getting ridiculous," he uttered, while banishing each and every one of the sheep. All except for one, though. He figured he kept one so as to remind himself that inside this mindscape, he was like a god who could create and destroy at the speed of thought. Well, the sheep needed a name now. His first idea for the sheep's name was Baa-chan (an easy thing to remember since that's the sheep's sole vocabulary), but he didn't want to confuse Baa-chan the Sheep with Baa-chan the Old Maid (at least in his original world).

He gestured for the sheep to come closer, and surprisingly the sheep complied. "Got a name?" Naruto asked it.

"You're seriously asking me that?"

Not the least freaked out that a sheep was _talking_, Naruto answered, "Then what should I call you, Mutton-meat?"

If sheep were capable of showing human facial expressions, it would've looked at Naruto as if he were crazy. Considering he was talking to a sheep . . .

"Well, if you don't like that name, do you have any preference?"

The sheep tilted its head to the left, which Naruto mirrored. "You do realize that you're talking to a sheep, right?"

"Yeah. Your point?"

"You're not freaked out about this . . . at all?" Again, the sheep looked at Naruto as if it thought he had too many bats in his belfry.

"I've seen talking animals before. A talking sheep is nothing new to me."

". . . were they imaginary?"

"No, they were actual animals."

"And you still doubt you're crazy?"

"Uh, yeah."

The sheep shook its head. "Better I didn't ask, then."

"Whatever. Look, Sheepie, I'm mentally exhausted right now, so I want you to stay quiet while I get some shut eye."

The newly christened 'Sheepie' looked like it was embarrassed of its given name. "My name is not Sheepie."

Naruto took off his ninja sandals and jacket, and lay down on his bed, squirming for a good spot to rest. "Why not? It's very sheepish."

". . . not funny," it deadpanned.

He grinned. "Then I'll think of a name later. I need sleep."

"But what am I supposed to do while you're sleeping?"

Naruto closed his eyes and prepared for a well needed twelve-hour slumber. "I don't know, play Solitaire?"

"I'm a sheep, human. Hooves and no opposable thumbs, remember?"

"Look, I don't know. Now shut up. I need sleep."

"But—"

"I need sleep."

"Then—"

"I need sleep!"

"I—"

Enough was enough, so Naruto took a page from Iruka-sensei's book and used the infamous Big-Head Technique. "I NEED _SLEEP_!"

After a long moment of silence, the sheep said, "Yes sir. Good night, sir." It then left the bedroom.

Naruto lay his head back down on the soft, fluffy pillow. He took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. The exhaustion trailed after his body and sleep came for him in no time flat.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

I'm not proficient in Japanese, so I can only implement what I _do_ know about the language. If there're any Japanese-speaking readers out there, please inform me if what I had done is incorrect. Anyway, let me tell you the reason why Naruto hates his 'Aka-chan' nickname. For the Japanese-speakers, you might've already guessed it right (_if_ I got it right). You see, the word 'Aka' is a pronunciation for the kanji character 「赤」which means _red_. The color is a reference to the new Naruto's hair color, which he got from his mother. Now this kanji character can also be used in conjunction with the hiragana characters 「ちゃん」 which means _chan_. An affectionate term that when combined together, you get 「赤ちゃん」 that could either mean 'Red-chan' or 'Baby,' but more commonly the latter one. Chibi-Naruto doesn't like being called a baby, much less a Mama's boy.


	2. The Daily Grind Inside Naruto's Mind

Date written: 15/05/10 – 12/06/10

Posted on FanFiction: 13/06/10

A/N: I'm a lazy researcher, so there may be mistakes I've made in the general psychological profile of children around the age of five. You've got to admit, children are social creatures but rarely are there ones who do not go a day without thinking about themselves and their own welfare. Call it childish narcissism, if you will; I sure do.

Canon Kushina's history threw me in for a loop. It would've been nice to use her background for some level of canon-truth in this fanfic, but my muse planned too far ahead and deemed that changing my version of Kushina's history would be a grievous error. Don't like it? Tell that to the a hundred other fanfic authors who wrote their own history of the Bloody Habanero before you complain to me, buster.

* * *

**- CHAPTER 2 -**

**The Daily Grind Inside Naruto's Mind**

Naruto Uzumaki was any normal five-year-old kid with the thirst for attention. He wasn't completely normal, though. Despite having one of the fiercest tailed beasts that was known to represent human hatred and malice sealed inside him (he was unaware of this fact), there was something else about him that differentiated him from normalcy. He functioned normally and made a few acquaintances even with his weak constitution and slightly introverted personality and had enough life in him to live through at least his young adult years, but something universal had happened to him inside that operating room when he was close to succumbing to death after the fatal number Mizuki had done to him. In a nutshell, he was saved from death because of a fluke.

His blond counterpart, now resting peacefully inside the kid's inner mindscape along with the bored talking sheep, had come to him moments after his heart stopped beating. Neither knew anything about this (but the older Naruto would most likely piece together a close-to-the-truth theory on what the Rikudou Sennin's 'suicide' jutsu _actually_ does to the user) but their worlds were not the only ones in existence. A macroverse exists beyond what their minds can comprehend, places in the void which bridges these infinite number of worlds to create a giant web of intertwined universes. Each and every one tells of a story that can be different and the same without being contradictory; it is the way of the macroverse, and so it is willed. What the blond Naruto failed to realize when he studied and mastered the suicide jutsu was that the Rikudou Sennin never used it. It never occurred to him that maybe it was coined a 'suicide' jutsu because the user would die in their universe, in some sense of the word, but happen to wake up in an all new different one. If the Rikudou Sennin had done this, he might've transported his whole body to a new universe, but since it was Naruto, who housed only the Kyuubi rather than the Juubi, the process was incomplete. The consequence of such a half-assed action, regardless if he had no idea what it would do, led Naruto to a more troublesome predicament: his body didn't come with him. And since his soul needed a body to anchor him into the new universe he traversed into, the first place it looked for was Naruto's counterpart. And the rest was history, you could say.

The redheaded Naruto had no idea that the dream he had before waking up in the hospital was his first ever trip into his mindscape. There were a few times where he dreamed of the Kyuubi and its enchanting voice directing him towards those huge gates with the paper pasted in the middle, although never reaching that close before. But they were soon forgotten once he had come out of the fog of sleep, along with the other nightmares his subconscious deemed too terrifying to be remembered—like a world with no ramen!

In the meantime, he was enjoying a bowl of the only meal he'd want to finish, broth included, if he could. It was like his stomach didn't want to digest more than what Naruto needed to barely survive without dying of starvation. He didn't get enough nutrients these past years to fill up his frame, and he was around three or four inches shorter than the rest of his age-mates. His maternal grandmother—God bless her soul—would've cried out, "Oh my, grandson! You're so _thin_. Nothing but skin and bones," if she had seen him now.

And today was turning out to be the oddest day of his life. He had just gotten through half of his own bowl of tonkatsu ramen (which is quite a heavy order, according to Teuchi-ooji-san) and he was _craving_ for more. The savory taste of the deep-fried pork mixing together with the noodle and broth was so much like heaven that Naruto almost believed that he was already there. His mother eyed him in the same watchful manner whenever they ate out in Ichiraku, but there was something in her gaze that seemed, to him, more intense than just watching over the amount he ate.

"What's wrong, Mom?" he asked, after eating the last bit of tonkatsu in his order.

"Heh?" Her gray eyes lost their intensity and reverted to how he always saw them. She cleared her throat. "No, nothing at all. I'm just . . . amazed how much you're eating today."

Naruto shrugged. "I'm just really hungry."

"But never like this before."

He made a noncommittal reply and wolfed down the broth and noodles. With the bowl empty and his stomach full (partially, anyway, but he was too shy to ask for another serving), he breathed in deeply, clasped his hands together, and thanked for the meal.

After paying, the mother and son went on their way home. They were just passing by the shopping district when Naruto spotted someone familiar staring at a shop's window. The man looked to be thinking deeply, not minding the woman, who was tapping her foot while staring at the sky, standing next to him. Curious, Naruto tugged his mother's hand.

"Yes, Naruto-chan?"

"Can we go to that shop?" he asked, pointing at said shop.

His mother took one look at where he pointed and immediately blanched. "Wh—why do you want to go there?"

"I think I saw Kakashi-nii-chan there."

From blanching to menacing, though it was not directed to the boy holding her hand, Kushina looked back at the small shop noticeable only by the large slogan sign attached to its roof: **Erotica Café**. "I see . . ."

"Hmm? Is Nii-chan in trouble again?"

Kushina considered it, but shook her head in the end. "He's an adult now, Naruto-chan, therefore he's free to make his own decisions."

". . . Will I be like that when I grow up?"

"Gah!" She knelt down, grabbed both of his shoulders, and tamed him with a hardened stare. "You will _not_ grow up like Kakashi. Am I clear, Naruto?"

"Ye-ye-ye-yes, Mom," he said. "You're scaring me."

"Sorry about that." She stood back up. "But it's for your own good. With male role models like Kakashi and Jiraiya-sama, I have a right to be worried about your upbringing."

"Huh?"

"Just . . . promise me you won't grow up like either of them."

"I don't really get it, but okay, Mom, I promise." He smiled at her, to which she smiled back. They then continued their trek back home. And as they passed the shop, Naruto took a glimpse at the woman beside Kakashi. She was small, barely reaching Kakashi's ear level, and her black hair seemed to glisten in the sun like an onyx jewel. The afternoon crowd didn't give Naruto a good view of the two except for their heads, which he could tell right away which was Kakashi. Just follow the silver, gravity-defying hair. Naruto wanted to go and at least greet Kakashi today, but his mother didn't seem to like going near the shop Kakashi was checking out. With unanswered questions inside a five-year-old boy's head, a boy who had the most curious mind in his age group, he turned to his mother for the asking part.

"Something only adults are allowed to know," was her crisp answer, clearly uncomfortable of being asked such a question. Naruto, although young and inexperienced about a lot of things, understood when his mother didn't want to elaborate over a certain topic. It was like a subtle signal she often projected unconsciously whenever conversations turned to what he dubbed 'The Adult Stuff.' As such, he didn't press for any more, even when he was still wondering why Kakashi was in front of that shop. He'd just ask the jounin later, away from Mom's hearing.

But what Naruto did not expect was for his mother to come to Kakashi first before he could ask him anything. The woman might've retired from active duty as a ninja, but she was still known as the most badass kunoichi in Konoha. Sadly, the nature of what Kushina did to Kakashi behind closed doors shall forever remain a great, big mystery. One thing was for sure, though: when Naruto finally got the chance to ask the white-haired ninja about _that_ without having his mother's acute ears listening in, his response was, "Something only adults are allowed to know."

Naruto groaned.

* * *

"Mutton?"

"No."

"Lamb?"

"No."

"Lamb _chops_?"

"No."

"Mighty Meaty Mutton?"

"No."

"We'll make it 3M for short, then."

"Still no."

"Uhm . . . Sheepie?"

"For the last goddam time, _no_! And you've suggested that name nineteen times already."

"Really?"

"Really."

Naruto smiled. "Glad you agree. Your new name is 'Really.'"

"What? No! I didn't mean it that way."

"Now that _that's_ out of the way—"

"I'm still not satisfied with my new name!"

Naruto sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We've been at this for eight hours now—"

"Ten minutes, actually."

"—and I know that you're eager to have your own sense of identity—"

"I want to name myself, for a change."

"—but rushing this time-consuming task will only lead to a name you will not respect, along with the people—"

"What _people_? We're in a freakin' mindscape!"

"—who should be treated with respect," he finished.

The sheep snorted; an odd sound, coming from its mouth. "Wait. You're referring to yourself about the people and respect thing?"

He nodded.

The sheep laughed. At least Naruto thought so. His laugh sounded too much like, "Baahaabaahaabaahaabaahaa!"

"I'm happy you find this amusing," Naruto said with a roll of his eyes. "Really."

The newly christened Really—whose previous official names happened to be Sheepie, Ramstein, Dewey, and Lambi—stopped his absurd laughter. ". . . I think I like Ramstein better."

"Really?"

"You know my new name is going to get confusing. I mean, how do I know you're calling me instead of just asking someone 'Really'?"

"Huh. Never thought of that. But you gotta admit, it has this double meaning cut down for it. 'Hello, I'm Really, a sheep.'"

Really stared at him. "Dude. You so _suck_ at pun jokes."

Naruto chuckled and puffed out his chest. "I'm glad you think so."

"Is that something to be proud of at all?"

"Anyway, let's move on to more pressing matters."

Really sighed. "Okay. But we _will_ get back to my name."

"How's the kid doing while I was asleep?"

"Better than when you're awake."

"I hope you mean _were_ awake. I don't like the implication in that sentence."

"Yeah, yeah. He got released from the hospital and everything. What are you planning on doing?"

"When he goes to sleep, I'll go and have a talk with him. You know, settle the predicament I've gotten myself into."

"And what about me?"

"You . . ." He paused, pondering what to say. "You just stand in a corner and act natural."

"Oh. By eating grass or your carpet?" the sheep asked sarcastically. It seemed to be doing a better job at jokes because Naruto ended up laughing out loud.

You see, Naruto, after waking from his nap, had decided to redecorate his whole apartment since he was sure there was no way back for him to his old world. Better to make the most out of the situation, and he had adapted to it in hours when even the most adaptable person would rather first grasp the fact that he died and was now living inside the mindscape of a five-year-old, red-haired version of himself—which would take days—before thinking about interior designing. Naruto was already considered a man that was off his rockers when he believed that Bahalana, the Ramen God, actually exists, going so far as to proclaim himself as the first blond prophet. He didn't start any kind of new religion, though, further believing that Bahalana could do that himself; all what Naruto had to offer was his faith and a wide consumption of the heavenly (but unhealthy) noodles. Interestingly enough, he was able to convince Ayame and Teuchi about it, and they were then christened as the second and third disciples of Bahalana. The others . . . just steered clear of them whenever Naruto started his five minute sermons in-between servings of ramen bowls.

But his religion was beyond the point. What really irked Really was whatever that was left of Naruto's sanity was not enough to make him rethink the oddities he had added to the apartment. It was quite annoying. Not only because he reimagined the white walls to become a lighter orange, the cupboards in the kitchen be filled with nothing but instant ramen cups, and created two adjacent rooms where one led to a small library and the other was nothing more than a secret room ("A lair—I mean, _base of operations_—can't be complete without a secret room," was Naruto's explanation), but because he covered the whole apartment floor in a green-colored carpet that had a distinct illusion of looking so much like grass. Just the mere sight of it made Really hungry, and Really once tried to eat it and ended up with a case of indigestion. Really made a mess. But with a simple banishment thought from Naruto, the trash was disposed of. Including Really's dignity, though it was already gone before the trash banishment.

"That was the first time I've ever seen a sheep barf out grass," Naruto said after controlling the urge to laugh a few minutes more. "And shit it at the same time." Stating the obvious out loud was probably a bad idea, because Naruto lost control and continued the tirade of humor-filled HAHAs while Really just stood there, forced to wait for Naruto to regain control.

"Aaaah, I haven't laughed that hard in a long while."

"Are you done yet?" Really didn't understand the humor; vomiting and shitting at the same time should be regarded as something disgusting, right?

"Am now," he replied, grinning as if there were still some laughter left in him. He moved towards the other side of the room, where his bed, now sporting the softest mattress he had ever imagined, was. He leapt, landed on the side of the mattress, and bounced a few times. The softness was almost unreal, as if he were floating on air. "How I love the limitless possibilities in mindscapes."

"While you're in that top-of-the-world train of thought, how about making a few ewes for companionship?"

"Don't want to get distracted. Many things to do, many things to do."

"Crud," Really murmured. It was hoping for some in-heat mating; it hadn't tasted a fine specimen of female sheep since it was conjured inside this mindscape. And the sole ewe inthe fifty-nine sheep the human had conjured hours ago was long gone.

"What _things_ are you talking about anyway?" Really asked.

Naruto shrugged. "Nothing specific, for the moment, except for one. It'd be undoubtedly boring if I don't get involved in my counterpart's life and help him to survive. That last attempt on his life was a very close call; I don't want that to happen again."

"What do you have in mind?"

"The purpose of the older generation is to pass down their knowledge to the next one," Naruto said sagely, although in truth he heard that from the Sandaime in one of the many speeches he had been forced to listen to back during his Academy and early genin days. That one quote stood out among the others because Naruto found it to be the most ironic thing he had ever heard; he believed that he was exempted from that saying, which often disheartened him. But in this case, he wasn't about to do to others what bad things others had done to him. It wasn't in Naruto's nature.

"_All_ of your knowledge?" Really asked, which seemed to have a slight inclusion of wariness, as if it believed that the blond would do more harm than good to the boy's development.

Naruto, not backing down, glared defiantly at the sheep. "Yeah. What of it?"

"And do you have a specific training schedule in mind?" It was almost afraid to ask that.

He tried to retort, but he closed his mouth with an audible click made by his clashing teeth. The truth of the matter was that he hadn't thought about the training regimen yet. He would need to ponder over this quickly.

"Guess not," the sheep murmured, turning away from him. It seemed to have found something else to bide its time because Really started staring out the window. "The kid's asleep. And dreaming."

"You sure?"

The sheep didn't reply, just gestured its head towards the window. Naruto got off the bed, went where Really was, and validated Really's claim with his own eyes. He had stared out this window a few times back in his old world, and he already had a distinct picture of what he expected to see despite knowing his current situation. This was a con in his attempt to create a place of solitude for him to think; sometimes he began to brush off the harsh grip of reality and see what he only wanted to see. This time, however, the subconscious phenomenon did not disillusion the image beyond the window.

What Naruto was looking at was the dream his counterpart was currently dreaming. It pictured the Ninja Academy and chibi-Naruto was sitting inside a classroom, a redhead blending in with the distorted faces of generic classmates, and listening to the teacher as he discussed the ways on how to be a cool ninja. Ah, typical childhood dreams. Naruto often had these back before and during his Academy days, back when he was naïve enough to believe the villagers' tales of honor and glory of becoming a ninja. He didn't regret becoming one, but did regret that he came to this career out of blind assumptions. There was no honor in stabbing a person in the back because it was the easiest method of assassination; there was no honor in lying, cheating, and stealing to fulfill the objectives given to you; and there was no honor in gloating over a kill you had done. It made you look like a merciless killer, no feeling of remorse or respect to the dead as you glorified your own accomplishments. Regardless if it was an enemy ninja you had killed, who's to say that the two rivaling villages would stay enemies forever? What was once your greatest enemy might, in the future, become your most valuable ally. What value would your precious kill be, then? The only honor and glory Naruto had come across in his gritty job was being patriotic to his village and country, protecting it from invaders and conspirers who wish to see its demise.

This Naruto was still wet behind the ears, ignorant of what dirty road lay ahead once he received his hitai-ate. Ninjas don't learn ninjutsu to beat opponents while looking cool in the process; they learn ninjutsu to _eradicate_ their opponents, when conventional means become too difficult or too time-consuming. Looking cool is just coincidental. Kids, mostly boys, have this unconscious gratification of violence, not because they are violent in nature, but because they take the initiative to reach the top of the social standings. By being part of the top, you're already considered cool. It's a part of human nature, and Naruto had to wrestle around, try to survive at the bottom during his childhood. Dominion is a powerful tool when handled wisely, but for kids in chibi-Naruto's age group, dominion over others does not come from wise words or political maneuvering (aka, slithering through the ranks), but by sheer force. Violence is not the key; it's the plan of action and general opinion of the population. In this case, what traits the kids believe to be cool. The concept of death, the concept of actually killing another human being, does not cross their minds. They look at the light, but never the dark. Eventually they will, but not at this age.

Standing behind that window, looking out at the child he must've once been like before reality finally settled into his hardened soul, he couldn't help but envy his counterpart. The kid could play ignorant for a few more years while Naruto had to keep the hard truth of life next to his heart, lest it got out of control and became the seed of wanton madness. God knew how many ninja who couldn't take the pressure of the shinobi way, how they were like deep-sea fish trying to rise towards the surface, to get away from the choking feeling of everything squeezing them with every last sweat and tear left in their battered bodies, only to reach a certain point and explode due to their bodies unaccustomed to the depressurization. A ninja lives a tough life; it'll forever be a part of you even when you turn away from duty.

"Will you be talking to him?" Really asked.

Naruto considered it a bit, but ultimately shook his head. "It's too soon, I guess. I still need to plan this out."

Ignorant to the guests inside his mindscape, chibi-Naruto dreamed on.

* * *

Hiruzen Sarutobi closed the folder with a heavy sigh. Reading the report on Naruto's near death experience seemed to have aged him at least five years. He was sixty-one years old and felt twenty years older than that. Five years ago, he had been preparing for a long-term vacation from the hectic duties his position had done to him over the last year of his tenure before he passed on the torch to Minato Namikaze. It didn't come to fruition for another three years, but Hiruzen often indulged in delayed gratification, so he didn't mind the wait. It would've been much more fun if his wife could accompany him, but, pondering over it in hindsight, maybe it was better that she was no longer amongst the living because Hiruzen was certain she would have razed a good portion of Konoha when he cancelled the appointment. With the Kyuubi's attack, the sacrifice of his successor, and Hiruzen's subsequent reinstatement of the title he had retired from three years previous, Konoha had gone into disarray that a planned vacation became as important as a dirty box in the attic. His village needed his guidance once more when the bright fire of the famed Yondaime had been put out long before his time. It pained Hiruzen's heart to bury the younger generation when it should be the other way around.

He did what he could to reclaim order into the chaos brought on by the Kyuubi's attack, which left behind scorched buildings, ruined businesses, and over a hundred homeless people, five dozen of which were now orphans. Still, Konoha, even with all its fame in the history books as a very successful country brimmed with nobles and riches, could not accommodate all its resources to helping these now-homeless people out. Apart from supplying a roof over their heads in the unused evacuation shelters and a rationed amount of food, they had to start fending for themselves to acquire other things. The evacuation shelters were not a part of charity, but mostly considered temporary homes until the homeless people set their priorities straight and get back into the game. It was a little heartless, but Hiruzen had to think of the village as a whole, and with tensions still arising between Konoha, Kiri, and Iwa, he had to build (or rather rebuild) a sturdy defense. The Kyuubi did more than just destroy homes; it nearly eradicated Konoha's ninja forces. Despite his heart screaming to help each and every one of his people—even pitching in his own money to help with their supplies of basic necessities—his hands were tied. The lives of the majority of the village far outweigh the lives of but a few homeless villagers.

Maybe this incident had been the start of the village's hatred. To realize that all that you had—your home, your career, your loved ones, your life—was clawed away from you in one horrible night, it would be a miracle not to exact hate onto the very thing that had cause this tragedy, even if it was by proxy. Hiruzen held faith in the village that they would see Naruto Uzumaki as who he was: a hero, one that was born from another hero's sacrifice. But somewhere deep inside him, he knew that it was only wishful thinking. The reception when he told the masses of the Kyuubi's fate and Naruto's heritage was mixed, which he actually expected, so it didn't come as much of a shock; he was a realist, not an optimist. He dreaded to think if the villagers rallied altogether and brought out all their hate, shouting for the innocent boy's death. None of that happened, thank God, but animosity was probably the next best thing these haters could do other than death threats. It was wise to make that new law where nobody was to tell any younger generation about the true story of the Kyuubi attack. Not even the other hidden villages knew the full extent, only that the Yondaime died and the Kyuubi disappeared. No mention of Minato having an heir.

It would've been a very hard life for Naruto if Kushina hadn't survived his birth. Tsunade had disclosed to him that she had been close, but the world-renowned medic-nin was there to pull her through. Kushina was a headstrong woman and did not take charity whenever it came knocking on her door. He had offered to help her financially when she was barely making enough money to stay above water, but she would have none of it. Hiruzen surmised that she must've grown that way and believed charity to be a form of people showing pity. Though she was headstrong, she did not turn away help when she really needed it.

There were times when Kushina had no choice but to leave Naruto for a few days (her maternity leave days were already used up, the bills were piling up, and the emergency money she and Minato placed in the bank was now depleted, so she had no choice but to accept an A-rank mission), and she entrusted her son's care to probably the most ill-prepared individual for a babysitting job: Kakashi Hatake. A man of fifteen at the time, he had his fair share of D-rank missions where a genin team had to babysit, but this would be the first time Kakashi had to take care of an eight-month old baby on his own. Minato's reports were accurate, all right: the boys let Rin do all the work in those particular missions.

Kakashi had not been thrilled with the job, but he had understood Kushina's tough position and wished for a female comrade to help with the babysitting. While Kushina had begun becoming distrustful to some ninjas, mostly because of paranoia with a slight mix of overprotectiveness, she had agreed to Kakashi's choice. It wasn't Rin, but that female chuunin had the full D-rank experience (meaning she did every variety of D-ranks during her genin days). And for some reason, Hiruzen believed that Kushina also saw the budding puppy love between the two. Their age gap was only one year and they were both teens, still naïve to 'adult' recreation, so maybe this was Kushina's way of pushing Kakashi to get laid. "Good God, he needs it!" she might've shouted, if Hiruzen had asked her this. Or maybe not. He began confusing her personality with the bolder character of that hotheaded tsundere character in one of Jiraiya's Icha Icha short story collections. They seemed so much alike that Hiruzen didn't put it past Jiraiya to model that character with Kushina's old self.

Well, putting these meager thoughts aside, Hiruzen gazed his tired eyes at Tsunade's report again. There were no suggestions of any kind about Naruto needing a mind-healer. While mind-healers often dealt with severe cases of psychological trauma (rape, excess torture sessions, shellshock, horrible battle flashbacks), Naruto might need more than just that. This was the first time an assassination attempt on the boy had almost succeeded. The culprit had to be found and brought to justice, and the easiest way to do so would be to find a memory where that bastard's face was visible. Hiruzen wrote in his memo, **"Inoichi – Naruto, Kushina's consent"**.

A sigh left his mouth. Many things to do, many things to do.

. . . and he still had a whole pile of paperwork needed to be done by the end of the day. Sometimes he wished he let Jiraiya or Tsunade take the mantle rather than him. He had retired from all this pencil pushing for a reason!

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

This is a new world, so there are bound to be a _lot_ of differences. So here's a little question: **Who's the chuunin who accompanied Kakashi at Erotica Café and babysat Naruto with him?** Those who get it right will receive one tidbit fact (which is quite important, since it concerns a constant phenomenon in the Narutoverse) about this world that Naruto will subsequently find out in future chapters and make him feel like he's liable for a chance to take over the world. It's a wonder I haven't read an AU fic where the author implemented this; the amount of mischief would increase tenfold!

All hail Bahalana! The epitome word of devil-may-care Filipinos . . . and the God of Blond Ramen Lovers from the Naruto world. Hahaha!


	3. Unseen Scars

Date written: 14/06/10 – 25/06/10

Posted on FanFiction: 25/06/10

A/N: Man, such a tiny reception . . . I feel unwanted now.

Doesn't stop me from posting new chapters, though. More, my muse, more!

* * *

**- CHAPTER 3 -**

**Unseen Scars**

"You know what I heard? I heard that the demon almost died last night."

"_Almost_ died?"

"Yeah. Well, actually his heart stopped for a full minute, then started beating again."

"And how do you know this?"

"My girlfriend was on duty that night. She told me that the kid actually came back from the dead, as if it were an intervention from God Himself!"

"More like the Devil, man. I hate thinking that he's . . . immortal."

"That's just unnatural, huh?"

He grunted and drank the rest of his ale.

Mizuki sat on the far side of the bar, eavesdropping on the gossips and whispers of drunkards. Some of their speech were slurry and hard to discern, but he always came here when he was in need of a place to clear his head and listen to old folktales and ninja adventures. It was all he could do these days. He had been suspended from the Academy after one of his disciplinary lessons went a little too far. Two more weeks and he'd be back, and he'd be sure that the snot-nosed brat had his mouth sealed shut. No one messes with him. No one.

The fact remained that he had a lot of free time and extra money in his hand. He couldn't very well spend it all on drinks and hookers, but he hadn't been the same ever since the death of his only girlfriend, Tsubaki. They had been fifteen, young, and very much in love. Mizuki had first thought that it'd be just a fling, but Tsubaki turned it more than that. Before he knew it, he couldn't stop thinking about her, and he was sure that this predicament also went the other way. His love for her was probably his saving light from the path of darkness he had been about to take. It was because of Tsubaki that he refused Orochimaru's offer to get stronger, not believing his talks of seeing the potential to do great things in him. His preaches just irked Mizuki the wrong way. But his refusal, whether it was for Tsubaki or not, had been a good call, because Orochimaru defected no less than three years later, two months before the Kyuubi attack.

The Kyuubi . . .

After the funeral for the ones who died on that fateful night, Mizuki began his plot to do vengeance. He didn't care if the boy was merely the vessel and also the sole heir of the Yondaime Hokage; he wished justice for his lover's unneeded death, and by the Gods he'd do everything in his power to fulfill it. But he didn't take this as blunt as the other haters in the village. No, he wanted to do this alone. It was vengeance he sought, vengeance for the woman he loved and the future they could've had together, not vengeance for the others who died that night. This was personal. And he wished to do this personally.

He waited, bided his time for the exact moment where killing the boy was as easy as counting to ten. Others had come for the boy's head, and he made sure that these attempts were foiled before the boy or even his mother realized it. The Sandaime might've discovered his actions, but it was unlikely. Mizuki didn't care either way, though. If the old geezer _did_ find out, then there would be less suspicion on him when it was _his_ turn; if the old geezer did _not_, then Mizuki would remain as a neutral party, neither hostile nor friendly. A perfect scenario for a dagger in the crowd.

Mizuki had been careful, too. His constant observance of the demon boy and his mother's abode sparked the attention of a few ANBU who had been assigned week-long protection missions in intervals, but it was a good thing that they were willing to stop and learn his motives first than going all arrest-first-questions-later mode. He took this as a chance, so when the next bold wannabe-assassin came knocking on the Uzumaki household's door—literally, in fact—Mizuki acted faster than the ANBU duo stationed that day. He made quick work of the culprit, apprehended him while stating he broke the law of civilians requiring special permits to have ninja equipment in their possession (in this case, explosive tags, a poisoned dagger, and smoke bombs), and did the subsequent textbook protocol when taking a criminal to jail. The ANBU gave him some leeway after that. Not enough to display full trust—Mizuki doubted that they'd trust _anyone_ other than the Hokage and each other—but it made it easier for him to study their work hours and shifts. Nobody kills the demon boy other than him. Nobody.

He had been planning the kidnapping for almost a year. His intellect may not be as up to par as the Nara strategists, but if someone gave him at least six months to think of a foolproof plan, then expect the plan coming together nicely. Mizuki made sure to take in every angle, every possibility, every wrong thing that could happen as the plan progressed, and eliminate every fault he could find. And it all worked flawlessly.

He rushed into the forest, wanting to kill the boy without alerting people from his screams. He wanted to show no mercy to the demon as it had done to Tsubaki and the village. The boy's screams were deaf to his ears; all he heard was the agony of the demon, the sound that he reveled in. He punched and kicked and stabbed and slashed and burned the demon until it looked nothing more than a lump of bloody, charred meat on the grassy ground. A spot of moonlight penetrating the forest canopy brightened his prone form. Mizuki paused at the sight of blood glistening in the moonlight and the sounds of the boy's labored breaths and agonized moans clashing with Mizuki's own heightened breathing. It all looked and felt surreal, hypnotic. _He_ felt surreal, hypnotized by the adrenaline pumping in his veins and the bloodlust and hatred for the Kyuubi blinding his morals.

He was ready to end it. He came closer to the boy's broken form. The pain he must be going through had to be excruciating. With a kunai in his right hand, he would slit the boy's throat and leave the body for someone else to find. He had sought his justice; nothing more could come from disturbing a corpse.

But what came as a shock was the red-orange claw slashing at his chuunin vest. His back slammed against a tree to his right, and while he tried to regain his bearings a growl caught his full attention. There, standing, breathing and bleeding heavily, was the demon encroached inside a red chakra cloak. It was trying to walk towards him.

Fear circulated Mizuki's body. He didn't expect the demon boy to fight back after all the precautions he had made to prevent this. His kunai were laced with a poison that clots the chakra pathways, acting like a more violent and painful version of the Gentle Fist strikes. But that demon boy was slowly counteracting the poison. The Kyuubi was supposed to be a being made out of pure chakra. For it to do this—

Mizuki grinned. He didn't need to deal the finishing blow, after all. The Kyuubi might as well do what he intended to, because if it were to keep on forcing the poison out with its demonic chakra (chakra that he knew to be deadly for the boy's fragile body), then it'd be the end of them both.

"Stupid demon," he murmured before escaping through the trees. It was much better to know that the demon boy would die alone, just as Tsubaki did. It was all for her, after all. All for her.

Thankfully, only his chuunin vest was damaged from that attack earlier. If Mizuki had been a little closer, then his chest would be needing stitches along with questions from the hospital staff on how he had gotten them. But still, the vest was tainted with the Kyuubi's demonic chakra and it was only right that it be burned immediately. Mizuki didn't mind; he had two more vests in his closet, anyway.

Come morning after the event, he was pretty much in high spirits. With the suspension still in place, he had a lot of time to wander along Konoha for the rest of the day. Maybe spend some cash on a luxurious lunch and shoot some drinks at the local pub later on. He was quite content, and for the first time in many years Mizuki felt light, as if gravity had lessened by half.

It didn't last, however. News of the Kyuubi jinchuuriki's coming back from the dead spread like wildfire, and the weight that had disappeared from his shoulders hours prior returned with its own bit of vengeance. Iruka was the one who told him the rumor, and Mizuki could trust Iruka for truthful information, although he wished it was anything but.

So here he was now, getting pissed drunk in his misery as the tavern folk kept spouting on and on about the demon boy and how he should be feared. It was getting into Mizuki's nerves.

"Just wait," he whispered, inaudible to all the loud talk coming from behind him. The bartender glanced at him once, and then returned to mixing a cocktail for the customer at the other end of the bar. "Just wait, Kyuubi. You'll get what's yours soon enough. And this time, I'll make sure your body's nothing but ashes."

He ordered for another bottle and quaffed it. The alcohol was burning his throat, but he didn't care. He'd do anything to feel light once more now that he had a taste of it. He needed to kill the Kyuubi jinchuuriki sooner. They'd surely figure out it was him, and he wanted to have his end without this constant weight hovering down on him. The demon boy must die. No more waiting around, no more slithering in the shadows like a predator stalking its prey, no more ninja assassin bullshit. The cloak and dagger plan was botched. It was time to do the alternative.

It was suicidal, but better than waiting for ANBU to come knocking at his door.

* * *

Kakashi was in the park, sitting on a bench and reading his new smut book out in the open, though it was layered in a mild genjutsu so that if anybody were to look—especially the young children running about inside the park's crowded playground—they'd see a cover of _Babysitting For Dummies_. He had been tasked with the job of watching over Naruto (again) while Kushina discussed something with the Sandaime Hokage. He heard a few rumors flying around this morning about Naruto's dance with death. They varied—as rumors tend to become as they transfer from one loose mouth to another—but the gist of it all still stood: Naruto died and then came back to life. While he was unwilling to believe them until he went to the only verifier of the truth (Kushina), he still smiled when one of the more hyperboled-to-the-point-of-absurdity version of the Naruto rumor talked about the Devil not wanting the annoying child in Hell and so brought him back to life. Despite its morbidity, he had to hand it to the villagers' vast imagination; that concept could become a good story with a really disturbing slogan: "When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth."

Folding the page as a makeshift bookmark, he closed the book and rested his one eye for a while. He checked Naruto, who was playing all by himself at the edge of the playground under a birch tree, and wondered if there really weren't any other side effects brought on by his near death. He was no psychologist, but repressed memories often have a way of coming back to bite you later in life. And those bites would leave more than just mental scars. They could change a man. Completely.

But Naruto still looked to be as blissful as he used to be. His idea of playing in the park is relaxing on the side of a tree trunk, where the sun doesn't glare as profound as when you're in the actual playground, and reading a good book. Naruto didn't look a bit like his father, but he sure acted like him. Minato would often have a book in his pack—that was where Kakashi got his reading habit—and would fish it out when he had spare time in his hand. The more Kakashi looked at the boy, the more he saw Minato that was more than skin deep in him. He couldn't help but smile under his mask.

"Good afternoon, Kakashi-san."

Kakashi turned to his left and saw Shizune sitting beside him. She was in her usual jounin garb, where her sleeves were longer than her arms. She rarely went out wearing it, preferring her modest casual wear. The only times she'd worn her uniform were when she was about to go on a long term mission outside the village. And with the pack strapped on her back, she very well must be.

"Afternoon," he greeted back. Not wanting Shizune to suspect him of reading smut in the open again, he hid his book in his back pouch. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I got some time to kill before I meet my team at the Southern Gates," she said, rolling her sleeves to her elbows. "I got stuck with guarding duty at the Kuro Quarry."

The Kuro Quarry is located near the south-southwestern border of the country, dangerously close to reported bandit outposts. There had been times when the Fire archeologists were forced to evacuate the dig site due to increased bandit attacks and raids. Even with the number of ninjas sent to guard them and the quarry, the ninjas lacked the needed manpower to watch the whole perimeter. The quarry had grown deeper and wider over the years of relentless excavation (funding was supplied by the Fire Lord's deep pockets). To hire a skilled jounin like Shizune on a routine guarding mission inside that giant crater, Kakashi's curiosity reached the breaking point.

"How many of you?" he asked. It wouldn't hurt to turn his attention away from Naruto for a few minutes; he wasn't likely to get into trouble so soon anyway.

"Five of us. All seasoned jounin, too." Her eyes hardened. "This is only B-rank, yet it's like we're gearing up for S-rank."

"There've been rumors of ancient ruins in the Kuro Quarry these past few years. I wouldn't be surprised if this was covered up as B-rank when it _is_ S-rank. Best to keep your guard up, all the same." Artifacts from a very old civilization were popping up left and right from discovered ruins all around the continent. Their values were quite high on the market—the most valued ones costing up to a tenth of the Shodai's necklace—and no doubt thieves, smugglers, bandits, and even missing nin were itching for some extra income through irreplaceable objects of history.

"The rest of us had the same conclusion," Shizune said. "though we're all wondering why the Third didn't tell us anything other than that. And speaking of rumors, have you heard the one about Naruto?"

Kakashi nodded.

Shizune smiled lopsidedly. "Pretty crazy stuff, huh?"

"Yet there's a grain of truth in the sack of lies."

"I know. Tsunade-sama told me it did happen, though not as flamboyant as the rumor mill tells it. She likely thinks that it's the You-Know-What that did it."

_The Kyuubi_, he thought. "And she's sure?"

"What other explanation should there be?" she asked back.

"Point taken," he conceded.

"So," she said, "how was your date yesterday?"

He looked away. He tried to act nonchalant, but Shizune already sensed the instant nervousness in his body language. "It was okay," he said.

"That's not the same thing _she_ said." She scowled and crossed her arms. "Honestly, Kakashi-san, you took her to a porn shop? Have you no tact at all?"

"I told her beforehand that she shouldn't come with me," Kakashi explained, waving his hands in a gesture of 'Please don't kill me.' "The new _Icha Icha: Caribbean Chronicles_ just hit the shelves yesterday, and I was eager to get my hands on it. The shop got temporarily closed during lunchtime, and since we'd already eaten lunch I wanted to stay in front and browse the windowed items until they opened up again. It was a good call because there was only one copy of the book left."

"Oh? You mean _this_ copy?" Shizune had in her hands the book in question.

Kakashi instinctively reached for his back pouch and fished out no book, only the four storage scrolls he placed there. "H-How did you . . .?"

She grinned, white teeth shining almost as brightly as Gai's. "A sleight of hand, Kakashi-san. A simple sleight of hand."

"To be bested by a fellow jounin," he murmured, "and attacking where it wounds me the most, you're . . . sadistic as ever, Shizune-san."

"So?" She shrugged, fanning herself with the inch-thick pocketbook. "I believe you need a little punishment for that stunt you pulled yesterday. She's one of my best friends, Kakashi-kun." The tone of her voice then turned icy cold: "And I look after my friends, regardless of our past together."

Kakashi sighed. Around a year after the Kyuubi attack, he and Shizune dated for a while. The relationship had its ups and downs, but in the end, they broke up on a mutual agreement after seventeen whole months being together. They remained friends, but not as close as they used to be. Ever since their breakup, there had been an invisible barrier keeping them apart, growing wider and thicker as time went by, that the term 'friends' was now bordering 'acquaintances.' There was a tense atmosphere whenever the two of them were alone. The tension got so thick that Shizune started addressing him more formally. She might've sounded hypocritical with her last sentence, with the way she wasn't doing a thing to break down the barrier between them (though the same could be said for him, too), but he didn't think so. Their friendship withering away hurt him, but he kept the façade and acted okay with it. As stupid as it sounded, he needed to move on, too.

"I'll be sure to avoid those next time," Kakashi said.

"Who's to say my friend would want another date from you?"

"I meant for other potential dates."

"I didn't say she did _not_ want another date, either."

Kakashi acted quick and chanced a grab for his precious book. His fingers touched the lower spine before Shizune yanked it until it rested next to her lower back. She was grinning all the way as if she had expected his predictable move.

He knew what that grin was for. He closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and offered his sympathies to Shizune's future boyfriend; her teasing games had been fun when they were dating, but their rotting relationship was now blocking that crucial emotional element, and Kakashi was feeling more annoyed than amused. Still, it was not a good idea to snap at her or wisecrack. The subdued approach would have to do, so he sucked up his pride and did it.

"May I _please_ have my book back?" he asked. It sounded perfect, pleading too. How mortifying.

Shizune pursed her lips. She gave it back reluctantly. "I'll leave you with a warning, Kakashi-san. Try anything funny again and . . ."

She didn't need to finish her sentence to get the threat across. After Kakashi packed his smut book in his back pouch again, he nodded at her. And he would honor it, too. He was unsure what he felt about the female chuunin now. Before, they were just friends, fellow Konoha ninjas often pinned together in C- and B-rank missions, knew each other, but it had never crossed his mind that they could become something more. Truthfully, he was also a little apprehensive about taking their current relationship to the next level, afraid that it'd end the same way with Shizune: botched and caused lasting damage. He might not take it well this time.

"Go for it, Kakashi-san," Shizune said. Her smile looked almost forced, although he couldn't be sure. "You have my support."

He looked away, didn't want to see how her smile differed greatly from the emotion in her dark eyes. It would spawn questions, and these questions would most likely complicate their relationship further. Better to move on and never look back.

"Yeah, thanks," he replied stiffly, which he didn't mean to come out that way. His voice became gentler when he asked, "How long do you have before you meet your team?"

"Not long now." She checked the sky and the position of the sun. "Time for me to go."

Kakashi merely nodded and watched her walk towards the park's exit. "Shizune!" he called, purposely saying her name informally.

Shizune looked back, and even with their added distance he was sure that her cheeks were pinker than before.

"Stay safe," he said. Those two words brought back memories, a time when he was still in ANBU. It had been the other way around, though, where Shizune said those words to him before he was off to his last mission as part of the ANBU.

She stood there, stunned for a few moments. He tried to smile at her, but he doubted she'd see the wrinkles forming on his mask. Almost like she had turned bipolar, she waved goodbye at him timidly and mouthed "I will," before dashing to the rooftops.

_I will._

Those were his exact words to her back then, too.

Now that their farewells had passed, Kakashi couldn't help feeling that their déjà vu parting had been an omen.

* * *

"Kushina, glad you could make it. Please, have a seat."

She complied, taking the seat at her right which was to the front left of the Hokage's desk. The old man's eyes followed her as she sat down, an indifferent stare partnered with a gentle, grandfatherly smile. Somehow, the image conjured hopelessness and despair than safety and peace. Their discussion didn't start yet and already Kushina hated and dreaded it.

"We have something to discuss that is of utmost importance," he said, taking a blue folder from his desk and presenting it to her. "I'll assume that you know what Tsunade had written in her report."

"Hokage-sama, if I may," Kushina interjected, then waited for her leader to allow her to continue, which he did. "I don't want to involve my son into this affair at all. I want to seek the bastard myself, yes, but the thought of Naruto-chan having to remember what happened to him . . . I don't want that. What kind of parent could want that?"

The Hokage looked solemn then, but neither did he sigh nor cry. He showed his own sympathy through subtle gestures and facial expressions; most wouldn't catch them, but their effect still came. Sitting on the chair in front of him, looking torn between seeking justice and wanting what's best for her only child, Kushina was willing to defy her village leader to keep her son safe. Sarutobi looked torn as well.

"I understand your concern, Kushina, but—"

"You weren't really considering making Naruto-chan remember . . . were you?"

"I have, I'm afraid." He sighed as Kushina's face paled, eyes as wide as they could go. "This must be resolved quickly."

"But Naruto-chan . . . yo-you can't!"

"Kushina, see reason." He tapped the folder twice. "From what I read in Tsunade's report and also the one from the ANBU who found Naruto-kun, it clearly states that he had been kidnapped, left to die, and the most suspected is a Konoha shinobi. Why they didn't kill Naruto-kun then"—he paused, hesitated when Kushina clenched her hands and gritted her teeth—"we would never know, _unless_ we apprehend him immediately."

"I have to think about Naruto-chan's safety first," she replied. She was as stubborn as Sarutobi remembered.

"And you _are_. Look at this way, Kushina. The culprit went after Naruto-kun most probably for the same reason as the other attempts on his life, they were after the Kyuubi's death. If the culprit had left Naruto-kun to die in that forest, he'd be expecting your son to _stay dead_. With the rumors I hear flying around the village, it'd be impossible to put Naruto-kun in hiding until this matter is resolved. No doubt he'd come back to finish the job.

"I've studied everything before I called you here. This kidnapping had been planned. He slipped through the patrols and the guards I've stationed at your home this week. He chose the forest because it was away from civilization; perfect for killing and disposing a body. And he left nothing that could trace back to him. That is _if_ his plan worked perfectly."

Kushina rested her forearms on her thighs, shifting herself to the edge of the seat. She had been too busy worrying over Naruto that she forgot to put time on studying the crime scenes and the evidence left behind. No doubt Sarutobi had already conducted that.

Sarutobi fished another folder from his desk, this one a blood red color, opened it, and handed it to her. She took it without a word and started reading the sentences he had highlighted.

"We found traces of a fabric commonly used in Konoha ballistic vests. That narrows down our suspects to chuunin and jounin. Naruto-kun must've put up a fight before the kidnapper had gotten the upper hand."

"But how?"

"It's just a theory," he answered, "but I believe it has the most merit. According to Tsunade, Naruto-kun had been wheeled into the operating room already leaking out bits of demonic chakra. It was the Kyuubi's own way of saving his container's life, from what I could think of."

Kushina wanted to say something, but kept her mouth shut. Sarutobi must have a reason for bringing that up.

"But then I ask myself, did the Kyuubi save Naruto-kun's life in another way? What if the fox was also the reason why the kidnapper did not kill Naruto-kun in that forest?" There was a darker thought that could explain why Naruto was left for dead: the kidnapper wanted him to die alone and in agony.

"So what you're saying is . . ."

"The seal must've momentarily weakened when Naruto-kun was close to dying," he finished. "And in that, the release of demonic chakra made the kidnapper flee, not knowing that the seal can reinforce itself and contain it."

Kushina turned her head back to the folder in her hands. "But before it was contained, the Kyuubi somehow . . . made Naruto-chan attack the bastard while engulfed in the demon's malevolent essence," she said, almost as if she were stating the obvious facts to herself to force her to believe it. Maybe this was the cause of Naruto's sudden appetite.

"And that's all it did."

"And the fabric?"

"That's where the kidnapper made his mistake." Sarutobi smiled like a war lord spotting a weakness in the enemy's defense he could exploit. He yet again brought out another folder, this one white. He opened the folder, dug out a single sheet of paper, and returned the folder to its original place. "The fabric on the vest is a material that had been used by only one particular store in Konoha. Ever been to Shinobi Arsenal?"

Kushina nodded. That was the shop where she had bought her custom-made ballistic vest, which consisted of both Konoha and Uzu designs.

"The owner, Mosuke, had invented a revolutionary design on our combat vests. He had cultivated a special kind of fabric which can absorb most attacks and more durable with ballistic and shrapnel damage."

"But he died before he could tell anyone how he made those fabrics. Yes, I've heard. My old armor had been his final work before his son took over the shop."

"Exactly. He was also quite secretive, saying that he'd only reveal how to create the fabric when he's comfortable telling it. But at least he told me that creating the special fabric is a time-consuming process, so he hadn't been able to mass produce them at all."

Kushina, somehow catching onto what the Third was talking about, asked, "Did Mosuke-san keep a logbook?"

He smiled and showed her the paper. "In fact, he does. This is a copy of the list of buyers of his vests. They were a rarity since Mosuke concentrated on making ANBU combat vests and forging new weapons, so we've narrowed down the list of suspects to twenty."

"There're thirty-two names on this list," Kushina informed.

"Ten of them died in the Kyuubi attack. One died when that Kumo emissary was close to escaping the village with Hinata Hyuuga; his vest had been heavily damaged. The last one committed murder-suicide on her boyfriend before setting their apartment on fire."

Kushina winced. She remembered that incident. The girl was a friend of Kakashi, and he had been devastated when he heard the news.

Whether Sarutobi was sorry for bringing up painful memories or not, she was unsure. His face remained indifferent but tired. "As you can see, Kushina, everything is under control. But I cannot proceed anymore unless I want the culprit to figure out that I am onto him."

"And so you want my son's testimony to let him point the man who . . . who . . ." The paper in her hand crumpled.

"Not like that, I give you my word. If all goes well, then Naruto-kun will never remember it again."

"What do you mean?"

"I've assigned the Yamanaka clan's best mind-walker, Inoichi, to dive into Naruto-kun's psyche and review the repressed memories from that night. It'll be like he had slept through some surgery."

Tsunade told her this before. Kushina just didn't believe it could be as easy. "What's the catch?"

"Nothing," he retorted. "Please don't undermine the capabilities of your fellow shinobi, Kushina. They might think you're being condescending to them."

"Don't patronize me with that, Hokage-sama." Her voice was almost a shout. "I'll talk to Mister Yamanaka if it pleases you, and only then will I decide if I want this to continue or not. There's always a catch to something." Her bangs shadowed her eyes. "I had to learn that the hard way."

Sarutobi wanted to rebuke that cynical view of the world, but didn't have the words to back it up. Just like Kushina, he had been hardened by war, mourned for countless deaths, and trained to kill for what he believed in. And in some part of him, he agreed with her. The world does not give you fortune for free, and there are times when the things you receive are far less than the things you give in return. They were harsh lessons, ones that didn't really give an impact to anyone until they themselves experienced it firsthand. Kushina had been through this, just like he did. All for the sake of duty, of valor, of patriotism.

But there were times when he was left to ponder things over, and he often asked himself, _Was it all for nothing?_

"That's all I ask for," he said to her, glancing at the window overlooking the village. "Inoichi will give you more details concerning the operation. At this time, he could be heading home from the Torture and Interrogations Department."

She stood from her chair, placed the crumpled list on his desk, and walked towards the door. "I'll go see him, then."

He couldn't see the expression on her face when she said that, but her hands, which were still clenched into fists, told him all he needed to know.

* * *

"I got it!"

Naruto looked up from cooking his special homemade ramen and saw his mindscape companion, currently going by the name of Really, entering the kitchen with a skip in its step.

"Got what?" Naruto turned the stove off, added the flavor packet into the pot, and stirred it while humoring the little sheep.

"I finally figured out the perfect name!"

"Oh really?" He then snickered.

"Yes," Really said, ignoring the pun, "and it's perfect for me. Very exotic and sends a chill down your spine, too."

"I doubt you'd have a better name than the ones I've thought of, Really a ewe."

"You mean names like Ramstein, Dewey, and Sheepie? Dude, all of them point back to me being a sheep. And I'm a _ram_ not a _ewe_, you moron."

"I'm going to ram ewe."

"Stop it with the pun jokes already!"

"What else _is_ there for me to do? What?"

"Solitaire."

"Gets boring."

"Eating ramen."

"Which I know is just a figment of my imagination, since my younger counterpart is the one eating _real food_."

"Conjuring hot chicks for some ramming?"

"Now _who's_ the one doing the jokes?"

"That one's ironic, not a pun."

"You got a point. And I don't conjure hot chicks because like with the ramen"—he gestured to the pot he was stirring—"it's not real."

"Then think of it as a wet dream."

"Which would carry onto my counterpart, and he's too young to be ejaculating."

". . . I give up."

Naruto just shrugged at him. He turned back to the stove, grabbed the boiling pot, and poured the contents into the bowl set at the next counter. "So . . . your name?"

"Oh, right. I realized that you have a fixation of my name referencing to my species."

"Sheep are nice, yes," he mused. "You can't spell ramen without ram, right." He started eating the delicacy.

One eye-twitch later (which is somehow amazing since Naruto doesn't remember ever seeing a sheep do the eye-twitch), Really said, "Well, I thought up a name that'll make both of us happy. It keeps up with your sheep motif, and it's a name I'm satisfied with."

"Okay. So tell me already. I'm anxious to know it."

The sheep took a deep breath. Then said, "My name is now officially . . . _Rambo_!"

Naruto went into a coughing fit, almost choking on his noodles. He stared at Rambo . . . wanting to laugh, wanting to roll on the floor and laugh his own ass off, _needing_ to create an outlet for the boundless mirth rising inside him. But it was not meant to be.

He just said, "Huh."

And that was _not_ a question.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

Shizune is out of the potential suspect for the mystery black-haired woman who's Kakashi's love interest, though it's nice to see that they had history together. No threesomes, if some of you readers are going to that strain of thought. I'm sorry but harem fics are all well and good, but not once have I read a harem fic that's _finished_. The way I see it, creating a _harem_ fic is a curse. And I don't want my story to be cursed by such a thing. I want to see an ending to this. It'll be difficult to wrap everything up, but I'm sure it'll be fulfilling.

It's also way too early for me to decide a pairing on Naruto. There're a few potential candidates, but only time will tell. I'd rather let the characters grow by themselves, let them be the ones to develop themselves than let an uncontrollable thing such as _**plot**_ ruin their role.


	4. Insanity Personified

Date written: 07/07/10 – 01/08/10

Posted on FanFiction: 01/08/10

A/N: I'm a 4th year University student enrolled in a 5-year course. Do you really think I'm _not_ busy, or have enough time to finish a chapter under a week while exams are just around the corner?

Didn't think so.

Anyway, I would like to first congratulate **Amatseru-chan** for winning the little guessing game I've started back in Chapter 2. If you're curious enough to know, then go search for that particular review. If not, then wait for another few chapters for me to formally introduce her into the story.

I understand that in the canon universe, the mind reading sessions shown there are more complex than in here, but there's a very good reason for it. **Amatseru-chan** has already been given a good hint about it (yes, Amatseru, it pertains to _that_, your reward for winning the guessing game; I finally found a valid reason, if a little farfetched). Don't worry, though. The secret will be out after Naruto enters the Academy.

* * *

**- CHAPTER 4 -**

**Insanity Personified**

Naruto had gotten an epiphany.

When he took time to think over the past events in this new world and what had occurred to his counterpart, it made him want to bash his own head at the apartment wall. It was basic procedure, after all. How could he have missed the fact that adding repressed memories and violent attack together in one particular case would most likely end up with the patient being subjected to a mind scan by a member of the Yamanaka clan?

"Took you long enough to figure it out, Junko," Rambo said as he studied Naruto's rapid change of facial expressions—from carefree to worried, from worried to panicky, from panicky to self-loathing—it was somehow entertaining to watch.

Naruto turned to the sheep. "You mean you _knew_ this whole time? And didn't think of telling me about it?"

"What's the harm in a Yamanaka mind scan, anyway? It's not like Aka-Junko has anything to hide."

Naruto waved his hands around the room. "Define 'hide,' my sheepish friend."

"Hmm . . . you have a point." He looked down at the green carpet, and then back to Naruto. "How about we act natural?"

"Right," Naruto drawled, glancing at the grass-looking carpet, and pictured himself eating it with Rambo. "They'll never see it coming."

"Hey, at least I'm thinking up ideas rather than panicking. And besides we have loads of time to think of a plan to hide without looking like we're hiding."

"Uh . . ." Naruto really wanted to comment on that last sentence (Hiding that you're hiding something? Talk about underneath the underneath) but didn't. He instead said, "You're right. No time for panic, but plenty of time for brainstorming."

"Well, good luck with that, Junko."

"Why do you insist in calling me Junko?"

"I have my reasons," Rambo said cryptically before sauntering off to another room, a new room Naruto had conjured for the sheep's personal space; they didn't like the idea of sleeping in the same room together.

Naruto did not push further, seeing that it was another odd quirk given to Rambo when he had been conjured. So when Rambo closed the door to his room, Naruto decided to pay another tenant inside this mindscape a little visit. It was a visit he didn't want to rush into because his last (which was also his first in this world) visit hadn't ended in a good way.

"Time to see if the furball had calmed down yet," he stated out loud, and walked outside the apartment. Upon exiting, he was unceremoniously dropped around three feet below and landed on the same ankle-deep water inside the sewer-like maze that led to the seal of the Kyuubi's prison.

Naruto had intended to interrogate the fox after he figured out why Aka-Naruto was inside this place, but after learning everything he could about his current predicament he called it off, wanting to delay that inevitable visit for a much later time. There was no rush because it was not like he and his younger counterpart were in any imminent danger, so a visit would most probably bring more of a headache than unconditional help from the big, bad fox. Besides, he didn't like the dingy look of the sewer maze. Who knew what kind of contaminated water was invading the skin of his feet right now?

But why stop delaying the visit when there was no need to rush? It was simple. A Yamanaka mind-walker would no doubt come into this mindscape, but they'd be coming in unprepared because they didn't know just how manipulative the fox could be even in its limited freedom inside the seal. The old sengama (_**tr.**_ "Sage Toad"), Fukasaku, couldn't help Naruto gather natural energy for his Sage Mode because the fox would interrupt the flow at every turn. The same might as well be said for any mind-walker brave enough to enter the head of a jinchuuriki, but more dangerous because for Fukasaku's case, he didn't dive deep into Naruto's psyche, which could not be said the same for the selected Yamanaka. If Naruto wanted this to run smoothly, he needed to keep the fox sedated, for lack of a better word, while the mind-walker roamed his counterpart's memories.

He had thought about repelling the mind-walker similar to what the Kyuubi had done to the old sengama, but dismissed it as a stupider approach. Blocking any attempts of finding out the culprit of Aka-Naruto's near death experience would be a bad move and would most likely waste a lot of time and resources for an alternative investigation. Not to mention that Mizuki wouldn't let this stop with just one attempt. Aka-Naruto was probably still in danger, and the sooner they figure out Mizuki was the culprit, then the better for everyone. Another reason would be the Yamanaka's persistence of the matter. Naruto wouldn't put it past a clan member to try and try until he succeeded, which might lead to more damaging consequences on his counterpart's brain, since being the receiving end of a Yamanaka mind technique too many times becomes equivalent to being subjected to an Uchiha's first attempt at Tsukuyomi. Nasty.

The fox problem could be taken care of, no problem, no worries. What Naruto was really worried about was what the Yamanaka's reaction would be if he discovered that there was someone else lurking inside the child's mindscape. It would be quite a sight: a Yondaime lookalike and a talking sheep named Rambo. The latter was most certainly insanity personified. Then again, he could be categorized alongside Rambo.

For some reason, as he made his way through the maze towards the fox's big, bad cage, he couldn't help pitying the unlucky Yamanaka who would be assigned for the mind-walk.

* * *

Inoichi Yamanaka had been expecting a redhead to come talk to him soon. Most likely sometime today. He guessed it right when Kushina Uzumaki leaned on the outside wall near the entrance of Konoha's Torture and Interrogation Department, her arms crossed over her chest, her whole posture screaming that she was waiting for someone specific to come out of the building.

Kushina was a woman of godlike beauty, with her knee-length crimson hair and endearing smile blessed upon a face that could rival even the most proclaimed of beauties in the world. Her smile always enchanted him back when he was a teen, still rough around the edges and needing more years of life experience to make it out on his own and his ninja career. Out of all the times that he had been on a joint mission with her, they'd only known each other by name. Even with a nonexistent closeness between them Inoichi found a sort of blissful peace whenever she smiled, like she was channeling her happiness to the outside world.

She wasn't smiling now. Along with her crossed arms, her eyebrows were forming a frown. Inoichi braced for the worst, since Kushina's temper had been compared with legendary proportions. The one thing every ninja who collaborated with her agreed on was that you'd be signing your own death sentence if you _ever_ anger the fiery redhead. Luckily for Inoichi, he hadn't been the short end of the stick whenever Kushina was in one of her bad moods, but that just made her the more fearsome now; it was always much more frightening when you were facing the unknown. He hoped that the anger she was emanating was not directed at him; he still had a daughter to raise.

"Good afternoon, Uzumaki-san," he greeted. It was only proper, and he doubted _her_ breaking the ice would be gentle. "How are you today?"

"Fine, good afternoon to you, too," she replied hastily. Her expression remained unchanged.

"You're gonna catch wrinkles if you scowl so much," he quipped.

"Right," she drawled. "If I need that kind of advice from a man who has to look intimidating for his job, which can't be complete without the scowl, I'll be sure to ask you."

Ouch. Shikaku was right; she _did_ have a very sharp wit for jokes _and_ insults.

"You're here for the proposal, I assume?" he asked.

She nodded at his question.

"Walk with me, then." He gestured to his right where the road to his destination was littered with people and a few street stalls. Yet another busy day in the late afternoon in Konoha.

She eyed him questioningly.

"I need to pick up my daughter from the park," he answered, and started walking. He caught her nodding again before matching her pace with his. The angle of the sun suggested that the time was between the sixteenth and seventeenth hour of the day. He didn't delay the inevitable with small talk.

"Hokage-sama wants me to personally do the operation."

"And what're your thoughts on that?" she asked.

He thought over his reply before speaking. "Probably the quickest way to get a face description on the culprit, although it's not an operation without its risks."

"Risks?" The way her head whipped at his direction and her voice mixing with a hint of suspicion, it was like she had grown distrustful of everyone but her close friends and the Hokage. He then thought back on her son's medical report, listing down the amount of injuries that had been inflicted on his person that night. If it had been any other child, they would've died long before the criminal had finished, saving them the torture of going through more of that hell. Naruto had been lucky that his stomach tenant gave him that nifty healing factor. Seeing the situation at this angle, Inoichi seemed to understand Kushina's distrust until the culprit had been unmasked.

"Not to your son, I assure you," he said. Her face softened a bit—her tense shoulders lowered, but with the untrained eye it would be impossible to detect. "I'm more worried about how deep a connection your son has with the You-Know-What, and what it could do to me once I enter his mind."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Again, not to your son. Practically every scenario I can think up often has only me who gets hurt."

"Then you . . ." she gave pause, unsure what to say. Then: "Do you think it's worth the risk?"

"Why are you even asking that?" It was his turn to frown, head whipping at her direction. "The Hokage approached me, asking me to do an operation I have done countless times in my career. The only difference with this new one is that I'll be mind-walking a jinchuuriki, who is also your five-year-old boy. I _know_ the risks involved, but that doesn't stop me. The Hokage _asked_ me, not _ordered_ me. I had a choice, and I chose to accept."

Kushina halted her steps and he followed suit. He waited for her response. Her expression seemed to shift, as if she was in utter disbelief—or maybe she wasn't sure _what_ she was feeling in that moment. Shaking her head, she replied, "I . . . didn't know that. Not at all. Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

They continued their walk in silence for the next three blocks. Judging from her body language, Inoichi learned that Kushina was feeling quite curious over what he had said. To tell the truth, he was also curious over his reply. He didn't mean to blurt everything out in just one sitting, let alone tell the woman that he was sacrificing his personal safety all for the sake of this little mind-walk, which could be avoided if he had said no to the Hokage at the time. But to him, rejecting the mission was not an option. Some would think that it was a very noble act for a shinobi, but they'd be wrong. Nothing could be given for free, and if there were something really great offered, one had to be prepared for a hefty price. If there wasn't one, then the only other option of payment would be ulterior motives, hidden away beneath the masks, beneath the fake smiles, beneath the shout of bargains and super cheap prices. Inoichi had one such ulterior motive, but it was not malevolent.

Attraction towards the opposite sex is a normal thing to feel when you're a teenager. Deep admiration, however, was an attraction sprouting roots and growing inside the heart. His attraction towards Kushina had long since withered away when she set her eyes on another, but the roots laid their claim on a place in his heart and weren't about to stay still and be uprooted. First loves were always diehard little things.

The park came into his view and grew closer as they walked side-by-side. Once, Kushina opened her mouth, probably about to ask him something, but she ultimately kept it closed and her stare forward. There were times when he felt like she was looking at him through the corner of her eye, but instead blamed it on mind tricks.

Konoha Park was not as open as the word of mouth said it was. It had been constructed during the village's founding, so the architecture took into account the chances of it becoming a fortified base of operations if ever any of Konoha's enemies decided on a full-scale assault on their soil. Today, with war not as profound and primitive as it had been decades ago, the park's design became livelier and friendlier for villagers to come and relax with their families, though there were still remnants of the olden days. The whole lot's perimeter was fenced over by a four-foot long wall made of Iwa's purest and sturdiest bricks—Iwa masons had been, and still are, regarded as the most genial workers of creating very strong construction materials—toppled by a seven-foot tall chain-link fence.

Inoichi and Kushina entered the park through one of the four large brick archways that faced the four cardinal directions (North, East, West, and South). Making their way through the paved path towards the park's playground, Inoichi kept his eyes peeled for someone sitting on one of the many benches inside the enclosed park. He found her on the bench nearest the playground, watching over Ino, who hadn't spotted him yet.

The woman in question was his mother-in-law, Kaoru Hikifune. Ever since the death of his wife, she took it as a mission to be there for Ino when Inoichi had to go to work. He didn't like leaving his daughter alone, but at least he found solace in the knowledge that she was in the caring hands of her grandmother.

"Well, I'll be," Kushina murmured, but it was loud enough for him to hear, even with the constant shouting of joy and excitement from the children playing near them.

"What?" Inoichi asked, seeing her staring at the playground. He followed her line of sight and saw one scene that put a smile that mimicked Kushina's own. "That's Naruto, right?"

He had heard from the Hokage that Naruto was not the outgoing type—a complete contrast to his own daughter, actually, who loved making new friends, be it night or day—and often liked to keep to himself. Many times when he had come here to pick up Ino, he saw the redheaded boy sitting under the largest birch tree in the park, reading a book—a trait he no doubt inherited from his father because Inoichi didn't think Kushina was one who liked hitting the books in a leisure-time sense—but today that particular tree lost its frequent visitor and only his book was left behind. Naruto was now playing with the other children, but never left the side of one child his age.

"Yeah, that's him," Kushina replied. "And I'm guessing that the girl next to him is your daughter?"

He nodded. Ino took up much from her mother in the personality department. Kokoro had always liked meeting new people; it seemed that her daughter turned out the same.

Ino and Naruto were swinging and climbing merrily inside the playground's jungle gym, their bright colored hairs easily spotting them out among the dark-haired kids playing along with them. Even from afar, Inoichi could see the large grin plastered on the young boy's face, and he just had to sigh. It was not out of wariness or disappointment, but content. Ino was probably Naruto's first friend, and for some reason, the boy's smile seemed to channel the same kind of happy radiance like his mother's. It did his heart good to see the next generation going along life with a happy mindset.

"It's the first time," Kushina told him all of a sudden.

"Excuse me?"

"It's the first time I've seen Naruto-chan playing with kids his age. He . . . doesn't blend well with the others."

"Is it because of his burden?" Inoichi saw the boy's hesitation to make friends as a sign that the other children's parents were forcing them to stay away from him, as if he were a leper that needed to be avoided.

"Not really"—she pursed her lips in thought—"it's just that Naruto-chan is naturally shy. I don't know where he gets it, though. Minato and I had many friends when we were young."

_And admirers, too_, he thought. _Don't forget admirers_. "He was probably dragged by Ino to come play with her."

"Your daughter _dragged_ my son?" She smiled lopsidedly at him, one eyebrow raised up.

"Takes after her mother," he said, displaying a mischievous smile of his own. "It's a wonder that my wife made more friends than enemies that way.

"It's also surprising to see her associating with Naruto. Uh, no offense to him, of course. It's just that Ino is a victim of peer pressure. Most kids don't like to play with loners."

"And some parents just don't like associating with him, not even giving a _valid_ reason why," she replied bitterly.

"But at least not all people feel that way, Uzumaki-san," someone said behind them. It was a voice Inoichi was familiar with.

"Ah, Kaoru-san, good afternoon," he greeted her mother-in-law. Kaoru was already reaching her seventh decade, but she was as active as any woman that hadn't reach thirty yet—that is, without the difficult physical exertions and such. She was garbed in the traditional red Fire country noble robes, an outfit fitting for her since she was the Fire Daimyo's cousin.

"Good afternoon, Inoichi-kun," she greeted back.

"Good afternoon, Hikifune-dono," Kushina greeted with a low bow, recognizing whom she was talking to.

"Ah, a youngster with respect," Kaoru remarked, looking at Kushina then to Inoichi. "You should learn from her example, eh." She laughed good-naturedly.

Inoichi couldn't contain a smile as he shook his head, while Kushina looked at them in confusion.

"Inoichi-kun here actually called me 'Obaa-san' during our first meeting," Kaoru elaborated, eliciting a poorly muffled snort from the female redhead. "And in front of my cousin, the Fire Daimyo, no less. Ha ha ha."

"Ever since then, she never lets me live it down," Inoichi added. He wasn't sure if he was blushing, but it didn't really matter. He'd blame it on the setting sun. "I hope Ino hasn't been much of a handful today, Kaoru-san."

"Not really, no," she answered, to which she had gotten a raised eyebrow from him. "Okay . . . maybe a little." She emphasized it with the 'just a teeny bit' gesture. "She scraped her knee while trying to climb a tree. I was glad it was just a scratch. Well, at least she made a new friend out of it." She pointed towards the jungle gym where Naruto and Ino had climbed to the top, sharing the spot with each other, grinning like they were the best of friends.

"Instant friends, huh?" he mused.

"That's the Hikifune charm," Kaoru remarked. "Very high charisma."

"Somehow . . . this scene feels a little nostalgic."

"Of course it does, son-in-law. You and my daughter, Kokoro, had climbed that same jungle gym together when you and her first met."

He had something to reply to that, but taking one look towards Kushina, he decided that it was better to keep quiet.

"Looks like they're coming our way," Kushina announced.

Ino and Naruto had descended the jungle gym with haste, then Ino grabbed Naruto's hand and pulled him along as she dashed towards them. The boy didn't seem to loudly protest the fact that he was being dragged around the place by a girl.

"Daddy!" Ino cried, smiling and pulling Naruto closer to her as they stopped in front of the adults. "Meet my new friend, Naruto."

Inoichi took this time to examine the boy. He was frail and thin—something that hadn't been done from malnutrition alone but also a side effect caused by demonic chakra exposure. It was like the child had a constant loss of appetite. He was also looking at the ground all the time, as if he had this twisted belief that he was the lowest of the bunch, unfit to have his head held high and a voice to speak out his ways. Kushina saying he was shy was an understatement. The kid seemed more of an introvert who was unwilling to let anyone but very close friends in his company. Inoichi looked at his daughter and wondered if the saying 'Opposites attract' had a hand in this odd friendship tandem.

Naruto breathed deeply, glanced over at his mother for a split second, and bowed at him. "G-g-good afternoon, sir."

He sounded like he hadn't been using his voice for a while.

"Good afternoon, Naruto." Inoichi gently placed a hand over his head, making sure to let his intentions be as clear as crystal for him. He figured that the boy hadn't experienced much physical contact outside from the ones he got from his mother and occasional babysitter (Kakashi), so he realized right away that Naruto almost cringed but still welcomed the unexpected contact. If not, he would've swerved his head away and stepped back by now. "Did you have fun playing with Ino?"

Naruto nodded; what was once an unsure expression turned into a happy one. "Yes, sir. A whole lot."

Ino tapped her new friend's shoulder and introduced her grandmother as well. Naruto greeted her with the same kind of respect. He then turned the tides on Ino and introduced her to his mother, who had been standing just to the left of Inoichi, keeping silent until it was time to let her presence be known. With a mischievous aura surrounding Ino, she mimicked what Naruto had said in his greetings. It brought a good laugh to him and the others, even Ino herself.

"Come on, princess, it's time for us to go home."

"Aw, do we have to?" Ino pouted. He tried his best not to fall prey to her puppy pout charm all the time, and he was glad his resistance was strong and unrelenting today.

"Yes, Ino, we have to." He thought it over for a moment, glancing at Kushina before she said what he had intended to.

"Which district do you live in?" she asked him, and he told her where. "That's not too far from where we live. How about we walk home together?"

* * *

Kushina liked to think that she had a firm grasp on people's personality after the first conversation. While she hadn't had much interaction with Inoichi Yamanaka, he was by far the hardest male she tried to figure out. Not even Itachi Uchiha had been difficult to figure out. Well, she wasn't exactly intending for the blond mind-walker to warm up to her like she did with the stoic Uchiha chuunin, but the general approach often had the same results despite the intent. She wasn't looking for a friend—though she couldn't say she'd refuse being friends with him; the guy was all right—so she didn't hold back when she began questioning him about the operation. Ever since the first assassination attempt on her son's life, she had been more cautious in dealing with new people and acquaintances. While the assassin had been caught before he could begin his so-called 'demon-killing duty,' the fact alone that there had been a villager bold enough to want to kill an innocent one-year-old without remorse put her on edge.

She didn't see any of these hidden intentions from Inoichi Yamanaka, but it was impossible to conclude that after just one meeting with him. Doubting his honesty, however, would be a very bad move, and Kushina did her best to believe in him. The Hokage trusted him with this operation, so it should stand to reason that she should trust him, too. But there was something about him that she didn't want to associate with. Something . . . something she was unsure of, but it made her feel very uncomfortable, like palpitations.

Still, that didn't mean Inoichi was a bad character. Though her heart believed he was uncomfortable to be close to, her instincts told a different story, shoving Kushina with a more positive outlook of the Yamanaka. She didn't understand the presence of such contrasts within her very being all because of just one man. She hadn't felt this way ever since—

She stopped dead in her tracks, prompting the party of five to look back at her ashen face. She shook her head vigorously, as if trying to flick sweat off her brow. All it did was make a mess out of her long red hair, where some of the crimson strands stuck to her face. While this was going on, her mind was in a rapid intrapersonal discussion about the validity of her heart's supposed claim. It was most definitely a fluke, she decided to herself. There was just no way that she could actually be attracted to Inoichi Yamanaka (an acquaintance, a mere _goddamn_ acquaintance, people!). It was . . . just unnatural. Then again . . . didn't she have this auto-discussion when she was unsure of her feelings with Minato?

"Uzumaki-san, is something wrong?" that insufferable man asked. She liked to believe that her ears heard a tone of worry in that sentence, but ultimately summed it up to delusions, mind tricks, involuntary autosuggestion, _whatever_ the hell it could be called! As long as it was far from accusing her of what the village teen girls like to call 'taken a fancy to him.' She was _not_ a lovesick teenager anymore! No way! No way in Hell!

"I'm fine," she lied. "Just remembered something I needed to do later."

"You looked more like a woman who found out her husband has cheated on her than someone who had remembered something she had forgotten," Kakashi remarked, looking away from his For Dummies book to state that before diving back into it. Funny, she never thought Kakashi to be the type who likes reading an instructional book about babysitting. But damn, he could be perceptive if he wanted to be!

"Oh ha ha, very funny," she drawled. Sarcasm was a good way to deviate the guilt, as long as it wasn't important enough to require added attention. Before anyone would know it, they'd be moving on to a new topic as their brains slowly disintegrate any remembrance of her sudden halt. Ah, the wonders of short-term memories. "Come on, let's go."

Inoichi looked skeptically at her, but kept his mouth shut. Good. That added some brownie points for him.

As they continued their walk, no longer thinking back about earlier, Inoichi stayed silent for a few moments. Then: "Uzumaki-san," he began. Kushina was halfway from opening her mouth to tell him that it was really nothing and that he shouldn't stick his nose into it, but the way his eyes looked at her . . . she had the sudden uncomfortable palpitations again. Not to mention the stomach butterflies. "What do you say?"

"Huh?" was her smart reply.

"About the proposal. The operation cannot proceed without your consent. What is your decision?"

Kushina bit her lip. She looked towards the others. Kakashi was busy with his book; Naruto, Ino, and Kaoru were conversing about something or other, not hearing her and Inoichi's own little conference. "Before I decide," she said, "can I ask you a question?"

"Go right ahead."

She was curious about a lot of things, questioning almost everything in the real world. It was like a compulsion for her to know as much as she could about her environment and the people around her. Of course, these were her odd quirks back when she had been a hyperactive child, so when she had gotten older these compulsive urges had simmered down dramatically, but she was still affected by it every now and then. This time, she was curious about Inoichi's purpose. No matter how many times she thought about it, there wasn't actually anything for him to gain other than cash. Yet this man was willing to risk his life, even when he had a daughter to take care of, just to get a facial description of a criminal who could still be caught if they decided to take the hard way. So what was motivating him, she wondered. She really needed to know.

"Why continue . . . when you aren't so sure if it'll succeed? Or if you'd actually . . ." She stopped. There was no need to finish it; the point was still brought out in the open: _If you'd actually survive?_

Inoichi looked at her and offered a grim smile. It reminded her of a dying man, of Minato. "Because it's the right thing to do."

* * *

Inoichi Yamanaka breathed deeply, pushing it out in the same rhythm as he had done ten times before. Inside one of Konoha hospital's ORs reserved for this special operation, he had been assigned with two fellow Yamanakas who will be his assistants. Well, assistant was not a very accurate word for it; they were more like supporters if ever something went wrong during the operation, prepared to jack him out of Naruto's psyche when signs of the Kyuubi interrupting the mind-walk appear.

He took a few last moments to let his eyes wander towards the sole window of the OR that was connected to the observation deck, and offered a small smile to Kushina Uzumaki, who would be watching the proceedings. Alongside her was the Hokage himself, his face grim-looking.

His eyes wandered back to the operating table in front of him, where five-year-old Naruto Uzumaki was laid down, sedated and bounded to the table. Having the patient bound was standard operating procedure, especially in the case of deep mind-walks. Inoichi preferred using the full-body bind that he and his clan members use in the T&I department, but those were specialized for prisoners, not patients, and the Hokage disapproved of its use on the boy. Frankly, he didn't see the reason for the disagreement, but the Hokage's word was almost like a law you _had_ to follow, so there was no choice in the matter.

After Naruto had been sedated, the hired seal master, Jiraiya, placed special seals all over the boy's head. The sage explained that they were seals for both suppression and amplification. The former for the Kyuubi's chakra, and the latter for Inoichi's technique. It would serve him well, Jiraiya had assured him, and Inoichi trusted his word for that. What he still worried about was if these precautions were enough to prepare him for the journey ahead.

It took him by surprise to hear Kushina agreeing to the operation. He thought she'd be stubborn and quite overprotective, but it seemed she had understood that doing this was for the best and the quickest in nabbing the culprit, who was still at large and probably plotting another attack. She also said that she would only agree if he and the Hokage agreed to one condition: she would watch everything during the operation. Almost a day later, he was now standing inside an OR with an observation deck and about to face an unknown variable not found in other patients of his mind-walking technique. Like with Kushina's temper, it scared him to think about what would happen to him when he entered the mind of a jinchuuriki, but he showed little or no fear to anyone. This was something he agreed to, and backing out now could only be labeled as cowardice. He was a ninja, and being called a coward was one of the worst taunts you could get.

"Whenever you're ready, Inoichi-senpai," the assistant to his left announced. The one on the right gave a nod of agreement.

He gave each of them a nod back, stole one final glance at the observation deck, and grabbed Naruto's head. Muttered words of the technique's chant. And he dove right in with ease.

* * *

The mindscape rumbled. It reminded Naruto of when a battalion of Sound ninja had breached through their fortified relief station, shaking the foundations like an enraged earthquake, unbalancing even the sturdiest support columns of the building.

With practiced ease (and he really practiced this part), Naruto headed out of the mindscape apartment, bypassing the special dome he had conjured around it (which would keep it invisible to everyone but him and Rambo), and searched for his target. The target was currently breaching through the subconscious defenses inside Aka-Naruto's memory section. The Yamanaka walker had full intentions of finding the specific memory and getting the hell out of the Dodge once he did.

Naruto smiled at that, but he still needed to watch over the invader. Wandering eyes were strictly prohibited while he and Rambo were still in here. He had to make sure that the Yamanaka stayed true to his given objective, and probably help him out in the shadows. The last thing Naruto wanted was a confrontation.

He had been hard at work in preparing for this moment, not only because there would be an invader inside the mindscape but also because he was about to field test the experimental seals he had been working on a few months prior to his transdimensional traversing. The seals were more or less containment seals specifically made for demonic chakra suppression. For the Kyuubi's case, even a hundred of these seals drawn to his cage were not enough to suppress all of its chakra, but with the right tools and modifications, Naruto had been able to redirect the seal's primary purpose. While most of the primary purpose was left alone, he had added in a secondary purpose, where the seal would tap into the Kyuubi's chakra pool and use that demonic chakra to reinforce the barriers it had been imprisoned in. Suppression and then redirection. Nothing other than that. It was cruel to further imprison an already caged animal, but seeing that Naruto and the fox hadn't come to a peaceful agreement when he had visited him yesterday, Naruto's hand was forced so he had to resort to the seal. He was putting a lot of gambit into this because the modifications of the seal were still untested, but hey, what's life without taking chances?

Besides, the less interruption from the nasty fox, the better his plans would go. And if anyone asked, he did _not_ smile smugly and did a victory dance when the placed seals looked to be working just as he planned them to be. Nope, not at all.

Slipping through the many sections inside the vast mindscape, he stopped near the location of the mind-walker, stepping into the shadows quickly before he was found. It took by him surprise to see Inoichi Yamanaka there, climbing deeper into Aka-Naruto's memories.

The memory section was like an office building modeled after the Hokage Tower's interior. Well, the Hokage Tower of this reality, but there really wasn't much of a difference between the two. They both have that squeaky door heading to the men's room on the second floor, after all. The place was made up of floors categorizing the boy's memories by year. The ground floor stored memories of his first year—fragments of what he could actually remember while his brain was still in the middle of cognitive development, anyway. The second floor was for his second year, and the list went on. The staircases alternated in place between floors—ground floor staircase was in the west side, second floor in the east, third in the west, et cetera—so that the visitor would have to pass through the corridors of his memories on that particular year and work their way up to where they wanted to go. It was a little time-consuming, but this was a place created from his subconscious and thus had to be followed without question.

Naruto was reminded of his early episode of reliving the memories of his redheaded counterpart, but he believed that phenomenon was different from this place. He had seen and understood those foreign memories, yes, but they were also vague, showing only still pictures and glimpses before moving onto the next set. He tried learning the difference between the phenomenon and the memory section situated separately from the mindscape apartment he had conjured, but with limited time to contemplate that while a mental crisis (A Yamanaka invasion!) was just around the corner, he had to push that issue aside for now and concentrate on the main subject of concern. Still, it took Naruto a while to accept that the memory section and his instant memory recollection episode were a lot more different than he first thought.

He had gotten to that conclusion when he climbed the steps and reached a particular floor. The strange thing about the building, though, was that it wasn't five stories high, as it should be since Aka-Naruto wasn't older than that, but twenty-two stories high. That raised some mental alarm bells for the twenty-two year old blond. He hadn't bothered exploring this section of the mindscape before because it was not like something instrumental was around here. He had been busy trying to gloss over what he should exactly do while the Yamanaka was rummaging around the fifth floor for that incriminating headshot of Mizuki-teme, and having the Kyuubi acting quite the very spoiled brat who didn't get his way, which was throwing a tantrum, didn't help ease things either. Seriously, it was what? Centuries old? The least it could do was act its age!

Back to the building, if it was twenty-two stories rather than the obvious five, what did that mean? It didn't take one knowing Kunai Trajectory Physics 101 to figure that out and act quickly. Since he had more privilege than a certain mind-walker, Naruto quickly teleported himself into the fifth floor, hasted towards the door leading to the sixth floor, and conjured a very convincing wall out of it. This way, Inoichi wouldn't think that there were floors higher than five. He sensed him already climbing up the steps of the second floor, so he made some last second modifications to make the illusion look as convincing as possible and set out towards the third floor.

He tried to teleport again, but it didn't work. Ejecting himself out of the building was another bust, so that left one final option. Just like Inoichi, he now had to follow the rules set out by his subconscious. He would have to go through the corridors of his fifth and fourth year before he could reach his destination. Life-sized picture frames hung almost side-to-side on the walls of the fifth floor corridor, each picture animated to life as if they were windows to another world and time. One particular picture gave Naruto pause, and he decided to spare a few seconds to see what it contained.

There he was, five years old and a boy filled with lively energy. He was standing in front of a towering crowd (if you were five, every adult towered over you) and began to shout that he would be Hokage someday, just wait and see. He touched the portrait, finding it was just that, a solid and flat surface of painted memories. The animation was just a special feature. The memory produced a ghost of a smile in Naruto's face, but that smile soon turned to worry when he realized something. This was _his_ memory, not Aka-Naruto's.

He suspected as much since there were seventeen additional floors, but . . .

He moved towards another portrait. He saw his mother wearing only a towel, exiting the bathroom. A blush and a slacked jaw were the products of such a sight, and he looked away quickly. Two things were for certain: This was Aka-Naruto's memory . . . and his alternate reality mom was looking good for a woman reaching her thirties.

To sum up what he learned from the two frames, he realized that his and Aka-Naruto's memories had mixed together inside this place, because honestly, where would Naruto's memories be in other than the memory section? This prompted Naruto to curse lowly, realizing the new dangers of the situation.

"You just _had_ to skip on exploring the memory section," he murmured mockingly to himself. " 'Oh, I know what will most likely happen because I've wised up! Besides, I already learn everything I can about this world, so going there is useless. Just stick to the plan and everything'll smooth out in the end.' Bull."

Self-scolding aside, Naruto hurried to the stairs and took two steps at a time as he descended. The fourth floor corridor made him recall memories he'd repressed from his active memories, and most of them were not exactly pretty. Some made him cringe, some made him angry, and few made him punch the wall before imagining that he had never made an anger outlet out of the innocent wall, repairing it back to perfection. These memories had been repressed with good reason, Naruto supposed. If they had stayed, they would've changed who he was severely, and seeing his younger self other than the loud, devil-may-care prankster of the century façade was more than just an absurd thought. An _impossible_ thought. Luckily for him, though, those repressed memories became repressed again when he exited the floor. It was like a cold hand had slipped into the inner parts of his head and installed a thick brick wall between him and the memories. It made him pause once more. That was another thing he found interesting inside this section, but he left these churning thoughts aside and concentrated on the present.

Inoichi was taking his ample time in the second floor corridor, moving his head left and right, looking at each of the animated portraits with a contemplative expression. It didn't seem like he was in a hurry, which was what he needed despite that was the exact opposite of what he needed for his plan to continue flawlessly. Maybe he should've conjured an imaginary Shikamaru and asked for his opinion. He had forgotten the vital quote that kept his moniker of Konoha's Most Unpredictable Ninja.

_No plan, no matter well thought out, survives first contact with the enemy._

Improvisation was always the name of the game. Ninjas didn't just think of a strategy and believe that it was a hundred percent foolproof. Even Shikamaru had backup plans for his backup plans. While improvisation was not exactly a good description for that, it did put the main point across that Shikamaru knew fully well the difficulties of keeping a plan as pinpoint precise as he had thought it out. There were unknown variables that could come at anything, anytime. To stick to a sole plan would just narrow one's perception. This was what Naruto had unknowingly done. He had been unpredictable as of late that he lived up to that moniker by being unpredictably ignorant of his shinobi teachings and his own misgivings of a strategy planned beforehand. He didn't know what could possibly be the cause of this, and he'd be sure to look into it later on.

Now, however, he had to think up a new plan on the fly before Inoichi reached the door to the third floor. The first two floors were flooded with nothing but fragmentary memories and were unlikely to be as important as the next floors up. He could still recall even the earliest memories of his childhood (minus the repressed ones), the most earliest happened to be his third birthday. The Sandaime decided to celebrate that October tenth with him, and it was here that Naruto had been introduced with the godly flavor of miso ramen from Ichiraku Ramen. It was a day he could never forget.

For an intruder to realize that Aka-Naruto had memories that were not his own inside his mind, it'd spark a lot of worry and caution, and Naruto had no doubt that they'd think the Kyuubi had done more than just heal him. He didn't want to make his first appearance come in a bad light. It was hard enough trying to come to grasp that he'd be stuck inside this mindscape for the rest of his life, so he didn't want his stay here to be more uncomfortable and troublesome as it already was.

Unfortunately, though, Naruto was stumped. He tried thinking over every scenario that could happen but none of them could point to a peaceful solution or a chance to keep his presence unknown to the mind-walker. He was fucked.

And that was when something unexpected occurred.

"Yo," Rambo said to Inoichi before he grabbed the doorknob, "fancy meeting you here."

Inoichi immediately acted like any ninja who had been caught off guard: taking a defensive stance and putting distance between him and the supposed enemy. Though not all ninjas were that jumpy, he was truthfully caught by surprise because the last thing a mind-walker would encounter inside a foreign mentality would be another sentient being not connected to the original consciousness of the mindscape. And as far as he knew, Aka-Naruto suffered no mental disorders, much less having a split personality. Then again . . . he doubted that a talking sheep could be regarded as a human's other self . . . or sanity.

When Inoichi made no move to respond or ease up from his guarded stance, Rambo decided to break the ice a little more. "Not the least bit freaked out that you're talking to a sheep?"

_He hasn't said a word to you yet, idiot_, Naruto thought in the shadows. _That's hardly qualified as 'talking to a sheep.' _

Going back to the matter at hand, Naruto wasn't sure if this unexpected addition would be good for his plans. He clearly told Rambo that he should stay inside the apartment until the Yamanaka left the mindscape. He should've known not to trust a simple-minded, domesticated farm animal to listen to easy orders when the farm animal in question was as curious as a cat wanting to get killed. Satisfaction _did_ bring back the metaphorical cat, but Naruto promised to kill him a second time. Just to be sure.

Still, he made for a good distraction. A stupid distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. Any new plans he might've been able to come up during that small window of opportunity as Inoichi eyed the talking sheep with a calculating eye decided not to be conceived during those moments. It left Naruto stumped as Inoichi was finally seeing the harmlessness of his foe. Naruto was still fucked.

He sighed heavily, clearly defeated. Not in the point one would think, but defeated in the belief that he could pull everything off with Inoichi ignorant of everything but Mizuki's crime. Naruto worked well under pressure, and he could adapt to any given situation—most, anyway. But he wasn't deemed godlike in military strategies and tactics, the whole cloak-and-dagger deal in the shinobi life. The trait that separated him from other ninjas of his generation was that he was an adaptable little prick. He thought on the fly and won fights that way. Thinking up plans without enemy engagement did not arouse the attention of his life-saving trait. In other words, Naruto could only think up great plans if he were fighting a battle directly. It had always been a fact in his old world that Tsunade-baa-chan avoided mixing Naruto and covert assassination missions together.

So there was only one thing left that he had to do in this dire situation: Wing it. And he meant to _truly_ wing it.

With that imaginary weight gone from his shoulders, the haze that had been hovering inside his head cleared a little and he came across a satisfactory plan for what he was about to do. It was a little risky but he wanted to take that chance. If the same history of how he had gotten the Kyuubi inside his belly was the same as in his old world, then this would work well to his advantage. I mean, the fox had mistaken him with his father. What was stopping Inoichi from making that same mistake?

Just to be extra careful, though, he mentally willed a decent transformation of his father onto himself, using his meeting with him when he almost broke the seal during Pain's invasion as reference. There was also a strand in one of Aka-Naruto's memories where he was shown a family portrait of his father and mother, who was around seven months along when the picture was taken, so he didn't doubt a possible error in his transformation. He stepped outside the shadows and approached Inoichi, who saw him and then tensed as he got closer.

Naruto put his hands up nonthreateningly. "At ease, shinobi, I'm only here to talk."

"Who are you?" Inoichi questioned, his eyes narrowed. "I know you're not the Yondaime."

Damn, suspected right off the bat. He didn't react to the accusation, though. It was just another snag in the plan. But no worries; Naruto's miraculous Adaptation no jutsu was hard at work. "How can you be sure I'm not him?"

"The Yondaime I know doesn't have whisker-like marks on his cheeks."

Naruto's eyes widened, involuntarily reaching for his cheeks where, sure enough, he felt the rough texture of his birth marks. Double damn, he had forgotten about those.

Inoichi's eyes narrowed further, and he was subtly moving towards the door leading to the floor above. "I should've known you'd do something like this, Kyuubi. I'm not susceptible to any of your mind games at all." Inside his thoughts, he was annoyed that the seals Jiraiya-sama had placed for his protection didn't work.

This was going downhill real fast, and Naruto was slowly losing his wit. But that did not mean he would give up. His creative mind—which was used to making up half-truths and lies during his pranking days—had a lot more ideas up its sleeve.

"The Kyuubi is pretty much disabled right now," Naruto said, keeping his hands up. "I made sure of it."

"Why should I believe you?" Inoichi remained subtle in his advancement towards the door, but Naruto made no move to stop him. That door wouldn't open if he didn't want it to, so his guest was stuck inside this floor with him whether the man liked it or not.

"I would've just imprisoned you, overwhelmed you with demonic chakra, threw chains around your limbs and ripped them to pieces, at least done something to consider me as an actual threat."

"And what's stopping you from doing that later?"

"Do you think the Kyuubi no Youko is into the shinobi's cloak-and-dagger profession?"

"But foxes are known to be tricksters, are they not?"

"That's true, but do I look like a fox to you?"

"How do I know that's not just an illusion, like you've copied the face of Yondaime-sama?"

Naruto was unsure how to rebuke that. His appearance being in an illusion was true, after all. "Why are you moving away from me?" If cat got your tongue, change the subject.

"You assume I already trusted you, fiend?"

"What's there not to trust?" He gestured to his hands, which were still raised and weaponless.

"Do ninjas often answer a question with another question?" Rambo asked all of a sudden.

The two blonds turned to him, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"You've been going at this, saying question after question, yet neither of you look to be answering them."

"It's like an old interrogation method I've heard about," Naruto answered. "By sticking to questions in your responses, the receiver would somehow get the message to his subconscious that he wouldn't get much from me unless he started answering my questions. Perfect for curious civilians, milking them with information while retaining secrecy."

"Is that a mind game?"

"No, it's more of an unproven theory in human behavior. It doesn't work all the time, so interrogators rely on other methods of information gathering."

"He's right, and the information he just stated is not accessible to a five-year-old child," Inoichi interjected.

Seeing an opportunity, Naruto retorted, "Which is also inaccessible to a giant demon fox."

He wasn't sure if it helped his case, but the Yamanaka's belief that he was the furball was slowly crumbling. That, at least, was a bit of good news.

"If you are not the Kyuubi, then who are you?"

Naruto would've replied right away that he was the Yondaime Hokage, who sealed a portion of his chakra in the seal to aid his son when he reaches the eight-tail state, but that would be pushing his luck. Inoichi already realized that he was not the Yondaime Hokage, despite the facial resemblance, ignoring the birthmarks. Naruto was unperturbed, however, as he had a backup story in mind already.

"You may call me . . . a being not of this world."

"Well, nice to meet ya, Abeingnotofthisworld-san," Rambo said. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a really long name?"

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Naruto asked.

"If you want it to be."

Naruto mentally counted to five, calming his annoyance. He told Inoichi, "Don't take him seriously. He's a little crazy."

"Not as crazy as the guy who talks to sheep," Rambo murmured.

"I heard that." He was tempted to have Mutton Stew for dinner.

"Not of this world?" Inoichi asked, pushing their conversation back to the main topic. He cycled between observing the Minato-lookalike and the talking sheep. A part of him wanted to issue a full psyche evaluation on Naruto after this operation. Having these two anomalies inside the kid's head was clearly unhealthy.

"Yeah," Naruto answered. He then grinned while crossing his arms, finding it too exhausting to keep them hoist up all day. "You might say I'm the insurance the shinigami placed on Naruto Uzumaki." Yet again, that weird feeling of talking to yourself in the third person came to him.

"The shinigami?"

"Yeah." Naruto believed that it was all the explanation needed to get his point across. And he just didn't want to divulge too much lest he slipped and said something that didn't happen in this reality.

Inoichi pondered this for a moment. He then asked, "When did you appear?"

"Huh?"

"The only times I know that Naruto came into contact with . . . death, so to speak, were when his father sealed the Kyuubi the day he was born and when he had been pronounced clinically dead a few minutes before his heart restarted."

"I guess you could say both."

"What do you mean? Speak sense."

"I have a hard time figuring out most of the details, too," Naruto said truthfully. Now to twist the truth a bit. "Perhaps I should show you my true form first." He undid the henge.

"What . . . the . . ."

"Weird, huh?" Naruto combed his flaky blond hair with his right hand. "My features are a combination of Minato Namikaze and Naruto Uzumaki."

"So what does that make you, really?" Rambo asked.

He shrugged. "I'm probably their love child or something."

Okay, that was an image Inoichi did _not_ want to have. "Just what are you and why are you inside Naruto's mind? And why is there a sheep in here, too?"

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'm actually an interdimensional traveller who is also named Naruto Uzumaki, where I look more like my father than my mother, and that I stumbled into this kid's mindscape because I died in my old world using a suicide jutsu specifically created for the Rikudou Sennin's use only, just so I could defeat Madara Uchiha from taking over the world through a global illusion?" Saying it all in one breath, he inhaled deeply thereafter.

Inoichi just looked at him as if he were mad.

"Then let's stick to the shinigami's insurance theory, please," Naruto finished. "I've been specifically placed here to help Naruto if there is ever a time he starts leaking the Kyuubi's chakra outside the seal willingly."

"The shinigami placed you here for that? I thought Minato only dealt with the sealing and nothing more. Why would there be strings attached that is actually advantageous for Minato's side than the shinigami's?"

"Probably to keep the deal straight and bound. The Kyuubi is sealed inside Naruto's stomach, and the shinigami believed it should _stay_ that way until the time of the host's natural death. Consequently, that means I'm here to babysit, more or less."

"Then it must've been you who had done _this_ to this place."

"What?"

"Everything here," Inoichi said, gesturing to the corridor they were in, "is Form mimicking Matter. I've been in countless minds before and they never had anything materialized such as in here. Just space as far as the eye can see. The inside of a person's mind shouldn't be this complex and organized. It just doesn't work that way."

"It works that way for me," Naruto replied. He didn't realize the implications Inoichi was saying. At least not yet.

"How exactly do you exist inside here?"

"How exactly can a mortal man seal a malevolent and powerful demon inside an innocent infant?"

Inoichi grimaced. "The shinigami. Yeah, I almost forgot about that."

"Don't feel too bad. It's hard to keep track with all this info on such short notice."

"Another question: Why are you stopping me?"

"I'm not stopping you, but helping you. I know why you are here."

"Oh?"

"I can give you the strand of memory you are looking for right now. It'll save you the trouble of finding it."

"What's the catch?"

Naruto sighed. There was still a trust issue between them. "I'm only trying to help. The faster you capture that white-haired bastard, the better."

"White-haired . . ." Inoichi mumbled. A stray thought entered his head, and his eyes widened. It was impossible, but it also made a lot of sense. _He_ could come to the Uzumaki household without being alerted by the ANBU. _He_ could study their rotations and manage to nab Naruto and get out without their notice. _He_ had knowledge of all forms of prolonging a torture session before killing the victim. And with the mention of white hair . . . "You don't mean Kakashi Hatake, do you?"

An eyebrow was raised. "Uh, no," he deadpanned. "It was someone else."

"Are you sure?"

"Look, I don't think we'd get anywhere if we keep this up all day. Let me just show you the memory strand and you can start looking for the motherfucker."

"Language, Junko," Rambo said. "We're in the kid's mind, after all."

"Rambo," Naruto said, "do me a favor and shut up for five minutes."

"Does the favor need me to talk at one point?"

"No. Shutting up for five minutes _is_ the favor."

"Then why'd you separate them?"

Naruto glared.

"Okay, okay, shutting up now. Sheesh."

Naruto turned back to Inoichi and stepped closer. Inoichi eyed him with caution but didn't take a step back. Despite the limited trust he was giving Naruto, he was willing to risk it and let the young blond get a chance to prove his claims. Naruto was sure Inoichi was hoping that this bold move wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass or something of that line.

He touched his forehead and within an instant the memory was passed to the mind-walker. Inoichi blinked a few times, shook his head, and rubbed his eyes.

"That," he said, "was weird."

"Better than going through three additional floors to get what you came for, right?" Naruto grinned. That technique he pulled was something Ino had taught him after Konoha had been utterly decimated a final time. With her being the sole Yamanaka, she believed it was better that her techniques be of more use to all of her comrades than her dying along with her family secrets. Sadly, she died two days after teaching him this.

Inoichi only nodded; he was still processing the memory given to him. His eyes then shot open in apprehension. "Mizuki! That bastard . . ." he growled.

"Mizuki, huh," Naruto mused, feigning ignorance. Aka-Naruto didn't know Mizuki by name, so it'd be bad for him to act like he knew everything there was to know about the power-hungry slimeball who was willing to trade his own humanity for what he wanted.

"So Daiki-san gets the memory, mission complete," Rambo said. "Can he go now?"

"I thought I told you to shut up."

"You did . . . _six_ minutes ago."

"Do you two always act like this?" Inoichi interjected, not smiling but there was still amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Not all the time," Naruto answered. "With only a sheep as company, it'd be bad if we ended up in nonspeaking terms."

"Bad for you, anyway," Rambo said.

Ignoring the jab, Naruto said, "You got what you came for. Anything else you wish to know?"

"No, nothing else," was Inoichi's reply. "Though I will have to file a request for Naruto to have a psyche evaluation from me for the next two months."

"Why?"

"To be sure he doesn't remember what happened to him three nights ago."

"That's all right. I got that one under control."

"And how did you manage that?"

_By using Ino's memory repressing techniques_, he answered in his head. "Trade secret."

"I'm not buying that."

"Then take it for free. Today's a hundred percent discount sale."

"I'm not leaving till I get a proper answer. The ones who can repress memories, as far as I know, are members of my clan." Inoichi eyed Naruto's hair. "And I'm sure that you're not a Yamanaka."

"I know a few techniques that transcend those of the living," he answered cryptically. "Sadly these techniques are forbidden for humans. Sorry." He didn't mean it, though.

The building rumbled. Again, Naruto was reminded of that Sound battalion breaching through the walls and floors. He doubted that there'd be another guest inside Aka-Naruto's mindscape, so that left the other signal. The Kyuubi was fighting back its restraints . . . and winning.

"You need to get out. Now."

"Why?" Inoichi asked, staying in balance as the building went through another powerful earthquake. "What _is_ that?"

"The fox," Naruto answered simply before he gave Inoichi a big shove.

"Hey, what—"

He had more things to say, Naruto knew, but they would have to wait as he was unceremoniously ejected from the mindscape.

* * *

Inoichi reeled back and almost fell on his back if not for one of the attendants catching him midway. He got back on his feet quickly and requested a status report.

"Everything checks out, sir," said the attendant to his right. "The signs of demonic chakra were minimal in and around the subject's mind. The strange thing was . . ." He hesitated, eyeing his partner for confirmation to continue.

"Was what?" Inoichi echoed.

When the left attendant nodded, the right one replied, "The seals Jiraiya-sama put in place around the Shishou Fuuin (_**tr.**_ "Four Symbols Seal") were acting as if they were dormant, as if . . . as if . . ."

"As if they were not being used at all," Inoichi finished. "I think I know why."

"Huh? You do, senpai?" left attendant asked.

Inoichi wanted to tell everyone about what he had seen inside that place. It was an experience he was not about to forget for the rest of his life. But he held his tongue. It was not because of fear or of confusion, but of excitement. He had dove into other minds before, each experience were as identical as seeing blood brothers side by side. There were obvious differences but the generality of it was all the same. For Naruto's mindscape, however, it was different on so many levels, like trying to see the similarities between a male and female reproductive organ. For one, as he had stated to that Yondaime-slash-Naruto-lookalike before, there were sections inside his mind that had manipulated Form into Matter. Such creations were unheard of, even if that person were disciplined with the mind arts his whole life. Such complexities were far beyond human comprehension, and Inoichi hypothesized that the Kyuubi had something to do with this. The facts were incomplete, however. There were more sections there that were left unexplored (his mission was a priority above all else), hiding secrets and wonders that were probably far more mind-boggling than the Hokage Tower in there. He felt bad using the two-month psyche evaluation as an excuse to discover more from the complex mindscape, but learning new things from a subject he thought he'd know almost all there was to know was invigorating, as if a passion in his soul had alit once more. But first and foremost, this new tenant inside Naruto Uzumaki had to be told to the Hokage ASAP.

In other words, no one must know but Konoha's dictator.

"Yes, but I want to consult with the Hokage first before anybody else," Inoichi replied. "Okay, wrap it up, boys. The operation was a success." He looked at the observation, saw Kushina looking eagerly for any good news from him, and gave her the thumbs up. This was also given to the Hokage, who understood the sign enough. The mission was a success . . . but there was a twist involved.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

I stand to the belief that the ninja villages are ruled under a dictatorship, despite their almost primitive setting. I mean, with such power coming from one leader (as Anko puts it in the fanfic _That Look_, by **lord of the land of fire**, "The Hokage's word . . . is . . . law!"), you'd have to start thinking that such a position can only be regarded as a dictator's stance in society. Democracy comes into play a few times—in my fic, there'd still be a Council, but there vote is not as strong as the Hokage's—because I'm too lazy to think up a whole unique political system that mixes the two together. I'm not into politics, goddammit!

My famous last words: Kushinichi! w00t!


	5. An Enemy Closes In

Date written: 01/08/10 – 06/08/10

Posted on FanFiction: 07/08/10

A/N: It's short, but it's a onetime thing, I assure you. Also, the last scene (The second one) would probably be too gruesome for some readers, so you should read it at your own risk. I repeat, read it at your own risk.

* * *

**- CHAPTER 5 -**

**An Enemy Closes In**

Hiruzen Sarutobi expected something to go wrong during the procedure. It would be, after all, the first in Leaf history for a Yamanaka mind-walker to dive into the mind of a living jinchuuriki. There were other clans that have similar mind-walking techniques as the Yamanaka clan, and that a few had already tried crossing through unknown territory inside the heads of the other eight tailed-beast holders. What worried him, however, was that none had been successful. None.

But right now was something Hiruzen Sarutobi did _not_ expect: the operation to be an automatic success, but something had happened that Inoichi decided it could only be heard by his leader's ears. The thumbs-up gesture was a sign of victory for most, but a sign of impending doom or elation for a Hokage. With ninjas at his disposal and information being the most vital component of success against Konoha's enemies, outside or within, the Hokage had assigned very high-ranking ninjas with specific gestures that have a very different meaning than what they represent publically. The thumbs-up Inoichi had given him happened to be one of them, so Hiruzen acted quickly for this. It was no doubt important because Inoichi had crossed his arms and tapped his elbow four times. A tap equaled B-rank, and additional taps meant an up in the ranking. Four taps meant Double-S-rank.

Hiruzen had an odd feeling in his stomach, a gut feeling maybe. Strange, that was. He hadn't had a gut feeling since October Ninth, five years ago. Hoping that the implication was just his paranoia talking, he excused himself from the observation deck and hurried to one of the secure conference rooms inside the Torture and Interrogations Department building. It was furnished with one wide table spanning almost the length of the whole room, with a total of eighteen leather seats occupying all sides. A third of the wall, the lowest part, was made of varnished mahogany darkened to a color close to ebony, while the rest of the wall was painted blue, matching the color of the carpet floor.

Inoichi was already waiting for him there. He sat on the chair nearest to the door.

"How's Kushina-san?" Hiruzen asked.

"She wanted to see Naruto," Inoichi replied, spinning the office chair so that it faced the olden Shadow. He stood up and bowed respectfully. "I had to excuse myself to get here before she started questioning me about the culprit."

"No doubt she would've breached protocol and went after the bastard herself." That put a small smile to his aging lips.

"We'll leave his identity for later. Right now, I have to tell you something much more urgent."

Something more urgent than Inoichi's main objective? This was troubling news. "All right."

"As you may know, Hokage-sama, I've been mind-walking since my early days in the Torture and Interrogations Department, so I know pretty much everything there is to know about the mechanics of the human mind." He paused, then added, "To a certain degree, that is."

"You have found something out of the ordinary?"

"_Beyond_ ordinary, sir," Inoichi retorted. "Naruto's mindscape is an enigma. It looks _nothing_ like all the other minds I've scanned."

"Surely you're exaggerating."

"I don't exaggerate something this monumental, Hokage-sama. Decades of research, of discovery, of experimenting, all went down the drain because of this little boy's head." He tapped his forehead twice.

"High claims, Inoichi. High claims, indeed." Hiruzen pulled one of the chairs next to Inoichi's and sat down, wincing a bit as some of the old bones in his back protested at the exertion. It was a constant reminder of his old age, and he didn't like it.

Inoichi sat back down. "Yes, but the answers were all in there." He took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'll start from the beginning . . ."

* * *

"Hey, Mizuki, you're still suspended! You're not allowed within the school premises."

He glared at him, hands in his pockets, the right fondling on a kunai he had hidden in there.

The Ninja Academy counselor was not a very intimidating man; it'd be hard for kids to open up if that were the case. No, this man was of normal build for a chuunin, kept his raven hair clean and orderly (he needed to set a proper example of discipline, despite his mediocre role as a school counseler and disciplinarian for the troubled and troublesome kids, respectively), and looked the least intimidating out of all the ninjas Mizuki had faced in his days before settling for a teaching job. There were some moments where the two of them had clashed because of contradicting punishments for the rowdier students who couldn't keep their bullying under the radar, with Mizuki's methods sounding much more severe than what the counselor had in mind. It put him at odds with the prick, so much so that it was his entire fault that he, Mizuki, was suspended in the first place. He just had to be a little too curious in the children's business, and the heavy bruises on the boy's back and the black eye were traced back to Mizuki the sadistic teacher. The only reason he wasn't arrested was because he had a solid alibi as to where he was when the boy told when it had happened. It also didn't help the boy's credibility that he had been diagnosed with Münchausen syndrome. Regardless, Mizuki may not have been sacked, but his reaction to the accusation were more violent and suspicious than how he normally addressed these issues in the past (yes, he had been accused of abuse before) that the principal suspended him until they got this case completely figured out. Well, that hardly mattered anyhow; now that Mizuki was a wanted man (it was probably still unofficial, but what real difference did that make?), it was time for some payback.

Wanted men like him were often sentenced to a quick death.

To Mizuki, this was a lot like cancer: his time was close, inevitable, so better to go out with a bang and enjoy himself.

He was going to enjoy this, yes. Indeed he was.

"There's nothing holding me back if I resigned, right?" he told the counselor, watching his eyebrows rose from surprise. He knew that telling him this outright would immediately make him a threat due to his dark reputation, but he didn't give a damn. It was time for payback.

"Regardless you are still prohibited from stepping inside this fine establishment, and I for one am not afraid to get my hands dirty just so I can personally throw vermin like you out. Permane—"

Mizuki slashed his throat. He watched him stop mid-speech, clutch his neck, and writhe around. His eyes were darting everywhere, desperately conveying a message for help where his voice box could no longer do that honor. And they rest upon him, his mouth blabbering inconceivable sounds, as if he were speaking through a narrow tube. He pointed at him, accusing him of the crime he had done, and he fell to the ground. Blood pooled the floor.

There were no witnesses, as far as Mizuki could see. Classes were in session and the now dead counselor was only doing his usual sweep around the hallways for any truant student lurking about. His choking cries were futile from the start.

Mizuki didn't bother hiding the body. It wouldn't be another hour before lunchtime came around, but that was an inefficient reason. The real reason was because it would be a waste of time. He came here to deal with that loose-lipped brat, to make sure that the brat wouldn't tattle again. That, and he had heard that there was a new chuunin instructor who was an Inuzuka joining the staff. He wouldn't put it past a member of that dog-loving clan to sniff out the scent of blood wafting in the hallway.

"Get in, kill, get out," he whispered to himself. "That's all. Nothing else."

He took the stairs up to the third floor and went left, passing two doors and halting at the third. Like in the ground floor, there was no one in the hallway save for him, the disembodied voices of the instructors droning out lectures, and the quiet taps of his shoes on the gray ceramic tiles. These sounds echoed around the walls of the hallway, barely giving any moment of sheer peace and tranquility.

"Like chaos."

He chanced a peek on the door's small window. The classroom was filled with the bustle of Academy kids out of their seats and conversing with their respective cliques. The chuunin instructor was somehow absent to placate the motor mouths. Shifting his view, he saw writings on the blackboard big enough for even the near-sighted to read clearly: _Self study_. Mizuki found this situation maddening. Two or three of the kids had their textbooks out and were studying as best as they could during a storm of chaotic noise. There was no order among the other kids, like a bunch of headless chickens. How did they expect to become professional shinobi if they didn't start growing up when they were already close to graduating?

_Because they're still kids, inside and outside_, a part of him thought in empathy. He locked that feeling away. There was no need for empathy now. He was a dead man, and dead men had no use for such an irrelevant, human thing called morality in their short life.

This image of a chaotic classroom also spawned a primal urge for him to raze it and snap each and everyone of those kids' necks. He clenched his fists and banished the urge. Killing all of them would be too much of a hassle, too chaotic, too time-wasting. They'd shout, scream for help. The staff would be coming for him quick if he stayed to fulfill one measly urge. No, that was a futile attempt. He had to live until he made sure that the Kyuubi brat was dead and burned to ashes.

Just one dead kid would have to do here. There, sitting in the back, still sporting the black eye, was his target. Mizuki grinned, formed a handseal, and transformed into the counselor. He would open the door, address the class and ask for that boy in the back to come with him to his office, and escort him there. He didn't waste time to put his plan into action. No doubt a staff member—probably one of the civilian janitors—must've already discovered the body of the real counselor, given the amount of time that had already elapsed.

The boy was a little nervous, unsure why he was told to come with him to the counselor's office. A simple announcement would've sufficed, so the boy must have concluded that this was something big.

_This was something big all right_, Mizuki mused. _Something big, indeed._

They stepped into the counselor's office, and Mizuki locked the door behind him, muffling the audible click successfully. The boy continued down to where the counselor's desk was and sat down on one of the seats in front of it. The counselor's office wasn't what you'd call Spartan in appearance, but not exactly plain either. This place earned the right to be described as something that bordered between Spartan and plain, because not only did the place had the bare essentials for a working environment as a school counselor, it also gave off the feeling of being nomadic, as if the counselor didn't set roots into this place. Funny, that was; the counselor had been on this job for over eight years.

"Kira-sensei," the boy called innocently.

"Ah, yes," Mizuki replied, putting up the same act that the counselor often did when facing students. He wasn't sure if he was giving off the same comforting aura as the counselor, but that hardly mattered now. His target was where he wanted him to be. Slowly, he neared the boy, taking each step with practiced ease. He breathed in and out, and fondled the kunai's handle. He waited for the perfect time to strike.

They went into silence. The boy stayed in his seat, trying to be patient but Mizuki knew that the lack of reason for him being here was gnawing at his curiosity. The boy wanted to ask but he might be intimidated to even utter the first syllable.

Mizuki smiled at him, not out of courtesy or kindness, but out of a sadistic urge to see him return the smile awkwardly before he brandished the kunai he had been hiding behind him. He would see the boy's eyes widen, ask him what the sharp little kunai was for—

"Mizuki-sensei . . ." the boy whispered, his eyes going as wide as they could go. It seemed he was a more competent ninja than Mizuki gave him credit for, if he saw the identity of the person behind the henge. Ironically, it was Mizuki who taught him and his class that skill.

His smile turned into a grin. The boy, out of fear, bolted towards the door but Mizuki grabbed ahold of him before he could come close. The boy naturally struggled and tried shouting for help, but when he positioned the point of his kunai in front of the boy's developing Adam's apple, near enough to draw blood, the only sound coming out of him was an audible gulp and a sob.

"Please, Mizuki-sensei . . . please," the boy pleaded. Mizuki couldn't see his face—as tempting as that was, he didn't want to let him go for one millisecond—but his convulsing body and muffled sobs were quite the talkative bunch. The boy kept saying, "I don't wanna die . . . I don't wanna die . . . I don't wanna die . . ."

Mizuki considered taking pity on the weak little brat.

Then he stabbed his throat, taking extra pleasure in watching him choke in his own blood as he plunged the weapon deeper into his neck.

Revenge was sweet.


	6. Deep Secrets Were Meant To Be Told

Date written: 09/08/10 – 21/08/10

Posted on FanFiction: 22/08/10

A/N: We've all seen Mizuki being the instigator of the secret revealing thing. I mean, in most of the fanfics I've read it has been Mizuki who takes the role of telling Naruto the Kyuubi is inside him (regardless if he already knew or not). So I take that simple concept, twisted it, and tossed it onto the canvas. It's not art to be ogled, that's for sure, but it definitely produces enough impact to fire the story up.

At least that's what I hope.

* * *

**- CHAPTER 6 -**

**Deep Secrets Were Meant To Be Told**

"Naruto?" Naruto asked.

"Junko," Rambo replied.

"Inoichi?"

"Daiki."

"Hmm . . . Kakashi-sensei?"

"Kazuhiko-sensei."

"Sakura-chan?"

"Chie-chan."

"Sasuke?"

"Yuri."

Naruto snorted. It sounded _too_ ironic. He thought of someone else, and asked, "Kushina?"

"Emi."

"Minato?"

"Toshiyuki."

"Tsunade-baa-chan?"

"Masako-baa-chan."

"Rambo?"

"I think it's Sylvester Stallone."

"Who the heck is that?"

"Oh, you mean _me_," Rambo said. "Well, none; I don't have a seiyu."

"A sei-what? Have you been eating the carpet again?"

"Never mind. Are you through asking twenty questions? Coz this is getting really old, really fast."

"I was just wondering why you have different names for everyone."

"Not everyone, mind you," Rambo explained. "Just to certain individuals. Specifically to those whom you've met in your reality."

"What do my acquaintances have anything to do with your name-changing preference?"

"Nothing at all. It's just coincidence, I guess."

"I swear some deity is out to get me." Naruto sighed. "First, my suicide attempt ended up botched and I got stuck inside a five-year-old kid's head, and then I'm left with no one for a companion except for a talking sheep that's definitely off his rocker."

"That's kind of insulting, you know, coming from you of all people."

Naruto could only grunt in his response.

"What? Not gonna make any witty comebacks?"

"No, though I do have three in mind. But continuing this talk with you would be more troublesome than its worth."

"Heh, now you're sounding more like Shoutaro."

Naruto guessed that Rambo was referring to Shikamaru. He was the only guy he knew who often added the word 'troublesome' when he talked. With nothing left to say to each other, he moved to one of the pictures hanging in the corridor. They were on the eighteenth floor of the Recollection Building, as Rambo nicely termed it, and Naruto was merely taking a stroll down memory lane, literally. After he had pushed Inoichi out of the mindscape and reinforced the seals double-caging the fox, he realized that he had nothing left to do until something monumental in the outside world transpires. And Naruto was not one to sit idly around and wait for long periods of time. He did enough of that a day after the Yamanaka invasion. Revisiting old memories, both good and bad, seemed like a good idea while waiting for something to happen so he decided to give it a try.

The days of his early teen years were moved for later visitation. He wanted to watch something much more recent, a memory that he often recalled to get his mind off whenever he was down in the dumps. It lit a fire in his soul for it was in that memory that he shared his first intimate moment with a woman. It was chaste and seemed almost platonic, but to Naruto, his first kiss (Sasuke doesn't count!) was a very big deal, seeing that it came from the woman he had his eyes on for years.

Naruto stared at the animated picture, the scenery painted dark blue of night, the stars shining, bright, scattered, and mystifying. The sight of Konoha below brought a pang in his heart. Ever since Pain's invasion, Konoha had not been able to come back to its former glory. The subsequent war occurred too soon for the village to recuperate properly, and Tsunade had been forced to cut down the construction funds to refuel the depleting reserves of the war fund. Requesting help from the Fire Lord did little to increase the budget; he had his own problems now that civil war had risen all over the country. Weapon supplies had become scarce and Konoha ninjas were diminishing, both from the shinobi war and the civil war. Konoha was trying to climb a very steep slope, and not even Naruto could be at every warfront to boost morale, kick ass, and take names.

The scenery of this Konoha was like a calm before the storm, because by the very next night, the whole village was torn asunder and then set ablaze. Most of the civilians were evacuated before the enemy battalion reached the village walls, so casualties were minimal. At least that was what Shikamaru kept saying as if he were trying to reassure not just everyone but also himself of that fact. While casualties were deemed minimal, the whole village was still decimated. Completely obliterated. Like the village from which his mother hailed from, Konoha was now nothing more than a memory.

The scenery changed and Naruto stared at how happiness played a role in the night before everything in his life had gone to Hell. From an overhead view of the village at night to a zooming view of the Hokage Monument. There was Sakura and there was himself, both sitting down on top of the Fourth's statue head, gazing at the stars and Konoha's nightlife. Conversations were scarce; they were content to be with each other. It might sound cliché but Naruto really didn't know who initiated the first move before their faces were but inches away from each other. He could still feel Sakura's hot breath caressing his cheeks as she looked up towards his eyes, jade green to cerulean blue. Lips locked, they were lost to the world for seconds, minutes, hours, he was never sure. Both he and she were lost in the moment, taking into the kiss that cemented their love. A love that was finally free to blossom.

Sakura died four months later.

Naruto turned away from the portrait, pushing the bordering tears back into their ducts. He had done his crying, had finished it, in fact. What good would it do to keep grieving over it?

"Junko!" Rambo yelled at the other side of the corridor, near the staircase leading to the lower floors. He looked frantic, panicky. "We have a problem."

"What now?" Naruto asked, though his stomach made an odd twist, a small sign that his instincts were acting up.

"Aka-Junko's screaming for help."

* * *

"Gochisou-sama!"

Old Teuchi offered a small smile towards Kushina as Naruto patted his stomach in gratification. This was the second time Kushina had seen Naruto eat a large serving of ramen all by himself and finished everything, including the broth. Today, Naruto had miso ramen with char siu while she settled for her favorite, salt ramen. Her son seemed quite eager to start his meal. She didn't plan for them to have lunch at Ichiraku, but with the way Naruto's eyes had lit up when he realized they were close to the ramen stand and how he didn't have an appetite for any other dish than ramen, she relented and let him lead her into the tiny establishment. She wanted Naruto to have a balanced diet, but she also wanted him to eat as much as he could to make up for his malnourished body. So she secretly requested the owner, Teuchi, to whip up Naruto's ordered bowl with some extra vegetables. Her son didn't seem to mind the added ingredients.

That was what the smile Teuchi gave signified. She offered him a smile back, adding a mouthed 'Thank you' to which he nodded at.

"Is my little Aka-chan now full?"

"Mom," Naruto whined, "stop calling me that."

Kushina just showed a mischievous smile and stood up from her stool. She took Naruto's hand, paid their meal, said their thank-yous and goodbyes to Teuchi, and reentered the busy streets of Konoha. The original goal for them being out was grocery shopping and she opted to have their lunch at that new dango stand she had heard about from Anko.

"It tastes the best with mitarashi syrup," was what the seventeen-year-old had informed, but Kushina couldn't be sure if it was actual advice because Anko put mitarashi syrup in _every_ food she ate as if it were the rice in her meals. Well, the dango stand was out of the question, with their stomachs already full of noodles. Better go there some other time.

Kushina fished out the shopping list from her pocket and reread the contents. "Hmm . . . guess we're going to get a bit of everything. Anything you want in particular, Naruto-chan?"

He thought about it. "Chocolate," he answered.

"What kind of chocolate?"

He went back to pondering first. "That chocolate stick thing," he said.

"Pocky?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, that one!"

"All right."

Another improvement, Kushina thought. Before the incident that almost took her son's life, she would often ask what he wanted when they had their biweekly shopping trip but his answer had always been a shake of the head. Groceries meant food, and Naruto didn't have the kind of appetite he had before the incident. So far, that seemed to be the only side effect from having so much demonic chakra enter his system so rapidly. Kushina wasn't hoping for another good side even after all the bad things that happened to him. Real life just didn't work that way. That was her life philosophy: life will throw whatever the hell it wants to throw at you, be it bad or good, and balance is nothing more than a concept; the whole Yin and Yang thing is meaningless.

Mother and son entered the grocery store hand-in-hand. Kushina always kept Naruto in a tight leash. He had a formidable record of running off whenever she took his eyes off of him. Naruto had a curious mind and sometimes he left it to wander around the world, disregarding the dangers he could face. With half the village hating him for what he held, Kushina had the right to be overprotective. At least until she was certain Naruto could handle himself against whatever the villagers threw at him. She just hoped that both events—Naruto's independence and a bold villager's attack—wouldn't happen too soon.

She grabbed a shopping basket and methodically went through the aisles in ascending number. The best way to shop was to zigzag, browsing through the items in an organized manner, although she already knew where each and every one of the items on her list were without having to sweep through every aisle in the store. Doing so would save time and effort, but what every good shopper knew was that failing to find better products and better deals was comparable to an archeologist conceding from digging deeper before he could strike gold and find a tomb of ancient treasures and riches. Some would say this was exaggerated, but the shoppers knew better and took this seriously. Kushina was on the same boat as these enthusiasts. And throughout the years of browsing every shelf in every store in Konoha, she had attained a better selection of goods while slicing down the total grocery cost by six-hundred ryou. It was a wonder how much stores nowadays were willing to cut prices to attract customers. More to gain for her family, in any case. She'd rather stay in Konoha and take care of her son than take a high-ranking ninja mission just so that she could pay the bills. She was willing to admit that she had become quite frugal for some time, but this was all for her family. Besides, being frugal wasn't a bad thing just as long as she still got to enjoy the simple things. From time to time, anyway.

Browsing through the items in aisle four, she saw the shelf housing Pocky and its many varying flavors. There was the traditional chocolate Pocky on the top row, the row below that had chocolate coating with almonds, and another row down housed strawberry-flavored Pocky. She asked Naruto which kind of Pocky he wanted, and he pointed at one of the red boxes. He wanted pure chocolate-coated biscuits without additions, it seemed. She took one off the shelf, put it in the basket, pondered for a little bit, and then took another box.

"Uzumaki-san?"

Kushina recognized that voice and didn't seem surprised she'd see him here in this aisle. "Hey, Itachi-kun."

Itachi Uchiha stood next to her, dressed in civilian clothes and carrying a bag half-filled with Pocky by his left forearm. In his left hand, he was holding an opened box of strawberry-flavored Pocky, with one of those sticks already halfway in his mouth. Being ten years old, he was a little tall for his age but no one seemed to comment on it. Kushina had last seen Itachi around three weeks ago when he had recently accepted a B-rank mission as a chuunin team leader.

Now there was a strange relationship that had boomed between very different individuals. The stoicism of the once so serious Uchiha prodigy had been subdued when he officially met Kushina about six years ago. It didn't go as smoothly as one would think—with such contrast between the two, like night and day, clashes were often inevitable—but somehow a friendship was forged. Kushina now missed the times when Itachi would call her 'Kushina-nee-san' until he had graduated the Ninja Academy at seven, barely three years after their first meeting. Their relationship hadn't strained too far, but their closeness wasn't as profound as it used to be. She believed it was just Itachi growing up, wanting to meet new people and experience new things in the world while he still had a chance to. With their lethal profession, it was wise to enjoy life's precious moments as if they wouldn't be able to do it tomorrow.

"Ran out of Pocky, I see," Kushina said, her lips curving into a lopsided smile.

"Not my fault." Itachi shrugged. "Shisui ate the last box I've been saving for when I get back."

"I hope you didn't beat him up too bad this time."

"I've gotten the jump on him that time. He wasn't about to fall for the same trick twice. He hauled ass before I could even blink and accuse him."

"Language," Kushina scolded.

"Says the woman who cursed up a storm in front of an innocent five-year-old," Itachi deadpanned.

She scratched her nape sheepishly. She had been very temperamental during her third trimester. "I can't believe you still remember that."

"It was a lasting impression. You don't know how much trouble I've given Mother for following your example."

She snorted, remembering how Mikoto gave her a tearing lecture for saying such indecent things in the presence of a child's ears. The worst part of the whole thing was that Minato had sided with Mikoto on this one. She didn't speak to either for two days before finally relenting and apologizing and saying that they were right and she was wrong. The usual routine. It made Kushina wonder how many times Minato or Mikoto or sometimes both had scolded her about something so trivial.

"By the way, is there any news about Mizuki?" Itachi asked. "I've only heard about what happened after I got back this morning."

Kushina shook her head. "Nothing yet, though your clansmen in the police force investigated the double murder in the Ninja Academy a week ago and linked it to Mizuki. He won't be charged with _attempted_ murder now."

Itachi nodded. "I see. What about Naruto-kun? How's his recovery?"

"Naruto-chan's just fine, Itachi-kun. He—"

She halted her speech; Naruto was not here.

"Uzumaki-san?"

She groaned. "Aw, that _kid_. How many times do I have to tell him not to wander off like that?"

"You look more anxious than exasperated," Itachi commented.

"Your point?" she asked rhetorically. She made her way out of the aisle. "Where did he go now?"

"Let's split up. I'll take the left side, you take the right."

"Okay." The store was not as wide and crowded as the market outside, handling only up to twelve aisles that occupied most of the building's space. After she checked the aisles she and Naruto had gone through, she would march straight to the front entrance and ask the cashier if he had seen a redheaded boy walk out of the store. The aisles on her side proved empty in being visited by a little head full of red hair, so Kushina made good with her mental claim and asked the cashier. No sooner did she reach the cashier, Itachi came to her alone. A shake of his head solidified what she already feared.

"Have you seen a little kid with a mop of red hair like mine exit the store?" Kushina asked the cashier.

The cashier was young, male, and a lazy face that seemed to say out loud what his mouth couldn't and wouldn't: 'I wish to be anywhere but here right now.' He turned to her, eyes half-lidded, reminding her of Yoshino Nara's kid when Yoshino took him shopping. "Red hair . . ." He eyed her hair. "Yeah, I think I do remember seeing a little kid walk out of the store. You're his mom?"

"Yes, I am."

"And do you know anyone with white hair?"

Her mind went to Kakashi, but there was someone else that fitted that simple and vague description, and it made her stomach sink as deep as it could go. She leaned closer to the cashier, purposefully invading his personal space. It was a good thing she was wearing a tight-necked shirt or the cashier would've had an eyeful. "Tell me which direction they went off to."

The cashier, slightly annoyed, bobbed his head towards the exit. "Probably went left after they got out."

"Thanks."

He shook his head and offered a grim look. "With the market this busy today, it'd be a miracle if you find him and your kid."

"I'll take my chances," she replied before dropping her shopping basket on the floor and exited the building.

"Uzumaki-san," Itachi called as he stepped out after her. "I'll go and call for the police. Please bring Mizuki alive if you can."

Though he said that, both of them knew what was entailed for Mizuki once she got her hands on the motherfucker.

Still, Kushina couldn't part ways with Itachi without a reply. "I'll try."

She disappeared into the crowd, like an assassin blending into their environment before coming for the kill.

* * *

Kamikaze. It was the only word that was close to describing the feeling. It was easy for him to stalk his prey since the market place was filled with people and he just had to keep in his sights the brightest spot of red hair. He had been laying low for a while due to the manhunt, but he knew hiding for too long was futile. The village was under lockdown until he was captured. All of his escape routes were gone. But those didn't really matter. He was content to die, but not until he made sure that the redheaded brat died along with him. He would see to it personally.

Mizuki had originally believed that getting the kid away from his parent would be the most difficult part, but that didn't seem to be the case if what he was seeing was any indication. The brat was like a danger beacon. It had to be a wonder that the Uzumaki widow didn't have gray hair yet.

There was his target, moving farther away from his mother and closer towards the toy aisle. He was a simple-minded child in action, but Mizuki didn't give a damn about that. It was now or never. Making extra sure that no one was looking when he made his move, he initiated the seven handseals needed and casted the genjutsu on the boy. The boy's eyes widened and then dimmed. He was completely under a trance, like the children lulled by the tune of the Pied Piper. He led the Kyuubi vessel out of the store, not noticing the glancing eye of the cashier nearest to the door, and turned left towards the main market. The crowd would make him and the boy practically impossible to detect, and with the brown cloak and hood he had draped over himself after leaving the store, it improved his blending in. For the brat's bright red hair, he put on a tight-fitting cap made of wool. Everything was set.

Inside the main market was a central stage often rented by big shot merchants who were trying to advertise their wares in a more attention-seeking manner than the usual shout outs one would hear inside a busy market. The current merchant standing on top of that large wooden stage was calling out to people, telling them what he repeatedly assured was an authentic weapon created and used by the People Who Came Before. It was L-shaped and slightly rusty, with a circle encasing a part of the inner corner. The merchant kept saying that he had found it inside an airtight container, laid out on a red velvet pillow like the one the weapon was resting on.

Standing at attention, sword sheathed and at his hip, was the one guarding the stage. The stage was rented out rather than used for free; it had been established since that chubby merchant took over this market and owned the majority of the stalls present. Mizuki came close to the guard, whispered something to him, and handed over a big wad of ryou. Corrupt employers usually attract corrupt employees. It was the natural way of the world.

The guard climbed up the stage and asked the busy merchant to get down, saying that his time was up. The merchant at first protested that he had rented the spot for the whole day, but the guard would have none of it and basically threatened to throw him in jail for discriminating an officer of the law. The merchant was ultimately spineless despite the brave front he tried to show, so he had no choice but to pack his things and get off the platform.

Mizuki smiled and nodded at the guard, who then nodded back.

The stage was set, his target under a trance, and the hundreds of people all around him. Men, women, and even the children, some older than the kid, some younger. This was what he was waiting for: a public execution. He wanted to see the true colors, the true faces of the masses, wanted to see if they also see what he sees. A demon in disguise of a five-year-old boy. Yes, yes. This was perfect. The perfect revenge.

He climbed the steps slowly, pushing the boy up and keeping the steady flow of chakra into the genjutsu he placed him in. He took center stage, looked out over the market, and took a deep breath.

This plan was suicidal. This plan would surely bring on his death immediately.

But Mizuki didn't care.

The only thing he cared about now was grasping the moment and the death of Naruto Uzumaki.

* * *

"What do we have?"

"Can't tell for sure. Shinichiro—the guy you call Mizuki—placed Aka-Junko in a mild genjutsu that practically makes him a living puppet."

"That's some bad news," Naruto replied. "Got any good news?"

"Yeah, just one."

"What?"

"I have no _worse_ news."

Naruto's eye twitched. "You're really getting on my nerves, Rambo."

"Hey, someone has to be the smartass around here while you go on being serious."

"Wisecracking does not help the situation at all."

"Sure it does," Rambo retorted. "It helps boost morale and gives room for some comic relief. I mean, super tense atmosphere suffocating us all here."

Naruto crossed his arms and eyed the little sheep observantly. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Rambo kept himself moving. He danced in place, balanced on two hooves, twitched a few times.

"Worried about my counterpart?" He pointed at the screen displaying Aka-Naruto's point of view. He and Mizuki were currently walking through a giant mass of villagers—some of them looked at him a few seconds longer than it normally took to start the glaring, but overall he was basically ignored among the crowd.

"Yeah . . . you could say that."

"How come?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that if Aka-Junko were to die then we'd be dragged to death along with him?"

"Why are you so worried about that? You're an imaginary frie—er, domestic animal . . . thing . . . that talks." He didn't want to sound like a kid. Only kids have imaginary friends. Then again, what he just said sounded lame . . . and childish.

"Oh why thank you for the reminder." The sarcasm was spreading all over his voice. "Then I guess I _shouldn't_ help you help Aka-Junko from his tight spot, eh. Because I'm _just_ an imaginary domestic animal thing that talks!"

"Struck a nerve, didn't I?"

Rambo just looked away, harrumphing.

"This does not look good." He was referring to the situation his counterpart was in. Mizuki had just bribed a guard to push that merchant out of the elevated platform. And now he was dragging Aka-Naruto onto it. That place was too out in the open to be effective for a clean and easy kill. Villagers and ninjas were spread out all over the market; it would be damn right suicidal if Mizuki decided to kill Aka-Naruto there.

"Where did you hear him scream for help?" Naruto questioned. Despite not being able to discern Mizuki's intentions, Aka-Naruto was still in danger. They needed to act quickly.

"In the white room."

"Then he's unconscious on the outside?"

"Not exactly. Right now, Aka-Junko is in a semiconscious state, largely due to the nature of the genjutsu put on him. I'm not proficient in jutsu at all, but I do have common sense. And common sense tells me that the genjutsu is putting a definite strain on his mind."

"What are the chances of the Kyuubi using this to its advantage?"

"Don't ask me. You're the one with the expertise in fuinjutsu (_**tr.**_ "Seal techniques"). Hell if I know what those extra seals you placed in do."

"Right," he said before moving towards the apartment door. "I'll go and have a talk with the kid."

"Got a plan?"

Naruto halted from turning the doorknob. "Yeah. It's unorthodox and untested, but what the hell." He then shrugged.

"As long as it gives good results."

"Yeah, wish me luck."

He turned the knob and exited the apartment.

* * *

"Naruto! Naruto!"

She kept calling his name. No one answered. She asked passers-by if they had seen her son, but most just ignored her. She began to grow desperate. She opened her senses and chakra pathways, hoping to find even the tiniest trail that could lead her to her son. But she had to face the fact that she was not a chakra sensor. The best chakra sensing she could do was less than ten yards, and that was for ninja powerhouses containing as much chakra as a Kage.

She continued her run through the market. Bumping through villagers was inevitable, especially with the speed she was going. It would have been easier to do her search on the rooftops—to hell with the fact that she was wearing a skirt today—but a few members of the police force had that taken care of. Itachi moved faster than she thought.

"Excuse me, sir, but have you seen—"

The man snorted at her, his nose looking as red as a tomato. He took a swig from a small gourd reeking of very potent alcohol. "If y'are lookin' for"—he hiccupped—"your accu'sed _brat_"—he pointed to his left—"he's the'a."

Reluctant but still wanting to be civilized, Kushina thanked the drunk before rushing to where he had just pointed. The thought of being given wrong information to further decrease the chances of her finding Naruto sooner never crossed her mind. And there really was no need for it. The police on the rooftops had turned their eyes to where she was headed, so she knew it was the right direction.

She came upon a large open market. Well over forty stalls were built in and around the place. The shouts of vendors reached her ears, telling people of the best bargains, the best stuff, the best quality, the best anything. It was utter chaos; the thing she always pictured an open market would be.

_No, not a market_, she thought. _This is more of a bazaar._

And it probably was. She never ventured to these parts, not because she hadn't been here before but because their products were questionable. In regards to price, their standards were stretched to the lowest limit while still gaining some profit out of the trade. In regards to quality, however, this was where the adjective 'questionable' could best describe their products. Some products were easily broken; some products were older than they appear to be; some products were actually fake and when the poor buyers had come back to complain and get it refunded, the stall had already disappeared, moving onto the next place for the next sucker to buy his faulty wares.

Scanning the crowd, she found a majority of them squeezing themselves together at one particular spot. The police were already jumping down from the rooftops to get closer. She ran to that compressed crowd, pushing the people away gently as she made her way through. An "Excuse me" there, a "Pardon me" here. Some gave her reproachful looks, clearly disliking her less-than-gentle attempts of moving them out of her way. Some even shouted at her, though they didn't go into anything physical.

Getting as close as she could get, she saw a grinning man atop the platform. To his right was a kid wearing a hat that covered his hair. She remembered what Naruto had been wearing when they went out, and that kid wore the same orange shirt, blue shorts and sandals.

The man took off the hood he was wearing and addressed the masses. Kushina's eyes narrowed when she spotted the white hair and the baggy eyes.

_Mizuki._

"People of Konoha, hear my call," he yelled, like a man announcing someone's crimes before ordering the execution. "I stand before you now to present to you the scourge of our village. For too long we have followed the orders of the Hokage to let this piece of filth live. For too long we have ignored the taint the thing brings us. It has taken human form, the form of a child! Not just any child, but the child of the late Yondaime Hokage!"

Kushina gritted her teeth and pushed through the crowd again. She needed to get closer.

Mizuki pulled off the hat and shoved Naruto forward. "Do you see what I see with my eyes?" he questioned his listeners. "Most of you would say 'a child,' but a lot of us know that it is _anything but_! The Hokage lied to your children, lied to those who haven't been there that night, to those who haven't seen the horrors plagued by the taint's evil. Yes, my friends, this child here is the symbol of that taint! The taint that killed our beloved Yondaime Hokage.

"The teachers at the Academy say the Yondaime sacrificed his life to kill the Kyuubi no Youko? No! He did not."

"Mizuki, stop!" an Uchiha officer yelled. "Or you'll be executed on the spot."

Mizuki ignored the threat. "The beast cannot be destroyed by mere blades and ninjutsu, for it is an embodiment of foul demonic chakra. So the Yondaime decided to seal the beast away at the cost of his own life. He sealed it away! Inside the belly of this boy!" He pointed at Naruto. "What you must really see is the Kyuubi. The Kyuubi has taken human form. It has—"

Mizuki dodged the kunai aimed for his head and jumped down the stage. Kushina was already on him before he could run. Her eyes looked murderous. She grabbed him by his collar and slammed him onto the stage's wall. He recovered quickly and then kicked her knee.

Her knee buckled from the attack and her grip loosened. Mizuki followed his attack up with a right uppercut and then a left haymaker. Any woman would've gone down immediately, but not Kushina. She balanced her feet, bit the pain coming from her injured knee and face, and headed back to her target, who was grinning like a madman. Despite wearing only civilian clothes, she didn't leave the house unharmed. With a village filled with people holding a grudge to the thing sealed within her son, she'd be stupid not to have weapons on her. Years of shinobi training ingrained into her mind and body shifted the inner workings of her circulatory system, respiratory system, and even her nervous system. Adrenaline pumped into her veins. She warmed up her muscles with subtle passages of chakra—a technique she had learned from Tsunade, so that she didn't have to bother limbering up before heading into a fight. Her right hand gripped the kunai in a reverse position, more than ready to make a sweep and cut that bastard's throat open.

But Mizuki had armed himself with a kunai as well, and he blocked the oncoming strike.

The crowd panicked and gave them a wide berth, but didn't leave. Some were whispering about Naruto's tenant, others were asking if what Mizuki had been true. The frightened little kids embraced their mothers. The ones old enough to remember at least fragments of that tragic night were staring at her son with a face akin to horror, indignation, and probably hatred—the last she couldn't be certain, because the best observation she did at the time was a glance lasting less than a second. Her attention had other priorities and one measly mistake could either mean the bastard's escape or his capture.

The police force present in the area was but a small group of five. Kushina heard the leader ordering two of his subordinates to take crowd control, one should secure the child, while the rest followed him and apprehend the suspect. They acted coordinately enough, but she was fine handling her own against Mizuki. Even though she was a jounin and he a simple chuunin instructor, he seemed to be going toe-to-toe with her and also seemed to be holding back. It annoyed her that another chauvinist was looking down on kunoichi, but she didn't see a tactical advantage in holding back. The three-man team was already attempting to box him in. The smart thing to do would be to end the fight quick and hightail it out of there, hoping that the crowded market could help his escape and that there weren't any chakra sensors among the gathered ninjas.

Mizuki did neither. What was he to gain from this?

"He's tagged! Tagged!" the shinobi tasked to check on Naruto yelled. Placed on the back of her son, the explosive tag was fluttering along the gathering wind.

Mizuki formed a one-handed seal, the Tiger seal. Used mainly for seal activations and genjutsu releases. And in a moment of boldness, he leered at Kushina, and whispered, "Boom."

The stage where the shinobi and Naruto were on had exploded into a dazzling dispersion of fire, wood, and the smell of burning flesh.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

Keep in mind, Naruto and Aka-Naruto are different in subtle ways. One of those subtleties includes love interest. First loves, anyway. I already have someone in mind for Aka-Naruto's first crush in the coming chapters. Just picturing their first meeting scene and its effect on Aka-Naruto for the years to come makes me laugh.

My second famous last words: Does the earlier sentence made any sense to you?

And since I'm feeling generous today, here's my third famous last words: All hail the cliffhanger freak! Okay, hailing is over . . . now _kill him_!


	7. Unforeseen Consequences

Date written: 12/09/10 – 20/10/10

Posted on FanFiction: 20/10/10

A/N: Got writer's block after finishing the latest chapter on my other story, Princess of Death. The outline of this chapter was already etched in my head, but I lacked the necessary means for the execution of the beginning and also the middle ground. Frankly, the chapter's end was what was the most visual and clear for me, but with so many ideas formulating while this chapter was in development hell, it expanded immensely that my planned ending moved onto the next one. I mean seriously, it seemed so simple at the time. I didn't think that more character development would come into play. So yeah, more words for you to read. Whoop-dee-fuckin-do. Anyway, I hope that you're prepared for some gritty stuff. The child-killing two chapters before was probably my grittiest moment, but expect some of the darker faces of humanity in this one. Fear, after all, can uncover the secret devils in saints.

I just want to say, the new Naruto opening theme song—_Diver_, by NICO Touches the Walls—is now my second fave out of all the Naruto openings, with _Sign_, by FLOW (the 6th Shipuuden Op.), being the first. And about time, too, coz the seventh one sucked ass! (My personal opinion because the upbeat tone of the song downgraded the seriousness and epicness of the Pain Invasion arc. I wanted some heavy guitar riffs and Shootie HG-style singing for that arc, dammit! [Note: Shootie HG is the gruff singer in the theme songs of Devil May Cry 3 and 4])

By the way, heads up for those curious people. Kakashi's secret girl is about to be revealed in this one. Some will hate, some will be indifferent, some will also probably like the pairing. But truthfully I'm doing this because I want this story to deviate from canon as much as possible. The mind-fucks are just beginning, if you want to be crude about it. Plus, if you think the cliffhanger-like ending of this chapter is a definite mind-fuck, then you haven't seen what I have in store for the two Narutos in the next chapter. Hehehe.

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 7 ––**

**Unforeseen Consequences**

After double checking the seal array plastered on the Kyuubi's cage and finding it stable, Naruto traversed through the mindscape and entered the white room. This place had always been the spot for discussions, explanations, and revelations. This was where he had learned that he was the son of his hero, the legendary Yondaime Hokage, so it only seemed fitting that he exacted his plan into action from this place. He and his counterpart didn't have a long conversation when they first went to this place together, unlike what he and his father had done, but now that was all going to change.

Rambo had said Aka-Naruto was in a semiconscious state, his awareness split between two places, the conscious world and the unconscious world. Naruto had seen this kind of state before, back when Ino had given him the basic rundown of the Yamanaka mind techniques. Putting the victim into this semiconscious state was essential for initiating hypnotism, which was used for either information-gathering (when simple mindreading was not an option) or tricking them into doing the user's bidding. There was a special kind of genjutsu that could fulfill this requirement quite easily (which was the one Red was in at this moment), but the Yamanaka clan frowned upon using it since it had a seventy-percent tendency of causing brain damage. No one knew the cause. It just had that kind of high-level damage.

But Naruto wasn't very worried about the chances of brain damage. If Aka-Naruto really had gotten brain damage from the technique, then there would've been black spots around the mindscape. Because this whole world was created and sustained by a working mind, and not a dead one, it should be in working order all the time. And because this mindscape was in working order, Naruto knew that Aka-Naruto was at least capable of manifesting his mental avatar into this world, despite how straining that may be. It would be like splitting his own body in two, one in the outside world acting like a lobotomized catatonic, one in the inside not exactly knowing what would become of him. But Naruto didn't think either of them had a choice if they wanted to be alive after this whole mess was over.

The connection must've dropped because he couldn't find the little redhead anywhere. It was him who had been calling for help, according to Rambo, but when Naruto saw nothing but white in this room, he suspected that Aka-Naruto was more conscious than unconscious now and that what Rambo had heard was probably nothing more than a frantic call from the kid when he realized that he was alone in a pure white room. For a child, being in such a place all of a sudden would prompt them to call for help when saying 'Hello! Anyone there?' repeatedly didn't get any reply.

"Naruto," he called softly, opening his senses to the far reaches of the mindscape. If there were even an inkling of Aka-Naruto's presence still within this realm, then he was determined to find it. He combed through the sectors, sniffing him out, wishing that he could find him faster because time was not in his hands. He absently sensed Rambo muttering as he sat on the floor, watching the outside world through Aka-Naruto's eyes, and continued his search. After going through at least eighteen different sectors—ranging from the small room for short-term memories to the hall that harbored his emotions—he found Aka-Naruto's unconscious half at the border between two places he called the Room of Dreams and the Wakened Veil. He should've known it would be there.

"Naruto," he called again, louder, much more assertive. He saw his counterpart groan as if in pain, but revert to obliviousness. Calling the kid's name (no matter how weird hearing yourself call out your own name) once more and still got nothing but a groan in response, Naruto decided to take matters a little more physically. While Aka-Naruto was, by all rights, the Ultimate God of this mindscape, Naruto still had control over the happenings inside this place. Like a second-in-command deity or something. So he tried summoning Aka-Naruto into the white room, using the godly gift he had gotten when he first arrived here.

It was a small success.

Aka-Naruto was barely visible. Rather, it was like he had turned into a ghost (the thought made Naruto shudder, and he had to control his shivers by comforting himself with the fact that the kid wasn't dead _per se_ since he was only half there). If the white room hadn't been more like a void made of white than black, Naruto would've been staring right through the translucent sleeping boy. As it was now, he could only observe the lighter shades of Aka-Naruto's clothes, his skin so pale that it was as white as Orochimaru's, and his hair shifting tints into a . . . light red (he refused to refer to it as pink because it'd bring back memories of Sakura and what future they could've had if she hadn't died). Aka-Naruto was afloat in midair when he was teleported into this room, and now he was gently set down like a fragile vintage bomb.

Naruto knelt down next to Red's face and shook his shoulder. "Naruto."

The redhead groaned.

"Come on, Naruto, you have to wake up."

Slowly, Aka-Naruto opened his eyes to the world of white light. It would've been comical to listen to the boy's thoughts and hear him think that he had probably died and reached the afterlife, but the reason for his being here dissipated the humor out of the situation. What Naruto needed was Red's undivided attention for his plan to work. And they had to act quick; he could already sense Rambo's frantic pleas for him to hurry up. Things were looking worse in the outside world than before.

"Dad?"

"Naruto, I need your help," he said. He decided not to rectify Red's presumption; explaining the truth would take too long and the boy would probably be more trusting of him when he thinks he is his father. Naruto didn't like lying to him, but they were short of time. Still, he promised himself that he would tell Red the truth after everything was resolved. There were no _if_'s, no doubts about survival, because Naruto was certain that they'd get through this alive and mostly unharmed.

"Help?" the boy asked.

Naruto nodded. "Yeah, _big_ help."

"What do you want me to do?" He didn't even bother asking why he was here or why his father was here when he was supposed to be dead. And Naruto knew that Red was aware of his translucence, but the kid didn't voice any kind of reaction other than the observation of an art critic looking at mediocre art. Naruto surmised that a part of Aka-Naruto's personality was also split along with the consciousness. Fear, confusion, and curiosity were absent in this ethereal Red. If you were to look at it in another angle, it'd seem like the kid had become completely docile, like a brainwashed servant.

It rankled Naruto, somehow.

"Can you see yourself in another place?" Naruto asked cryptically.

"Yes," Red answered. "A lot of people are staring at me and the white-haired guy next to me. He's yelling something, but I can't hear him."

Clearly catching the tone of shame in his counterpart's voice, feeling like he had failed to deliver what was wanted, Naruto moved swiftly to placate that dark thought. "That's fine, Naruto, completely fine. Now, I want you to sit down with me." He sat down, the boy mimicking him moments later. "Give me your hands."

Aka-Naruto offered his hands, and it was here that Naruto had a better picture of how much the translucence had affected the boy's mental avatar. If one were to look at the redhead with nothing more than a simple glance, anyone might miss the subtle features, excluding the obvious bleacher colors of his entire being. When Naruto grabbed both of the kid's hands, he could actually see the wrinkles in his palms through Red's own. Enclosing these tiny, translucent hands, he looked straight at Red's misty gray eyes and offered a smile.

He didn't smile back.

Unperturbed, Naruto said, "Now I want you to open up your chakra coils and let me take control of it."

"Mom told me not to use my chakra at all."

He sighed through his nose. Kushina had given her son rough instructions on how ninjas manifest the use of their chakra into their techniques. Aka-Naruto had been four at the time, so she didn't really believe that he could try them out (she only told him because he was curious) or be as stubborn as she had been when she first learned how to get ahold of her innate chakra. Unfortunately, the summoning of chakra for the first time diverted their full use in supplying the seal with enough energy to keep it relatively controllable. The Kyuubi had taken that second of disruption to try and get out. Kakashi had been there babysitting when Aka-Naruto began to release demonic energy, so nothing dangerous had come from the event; Naruto reviewed those particular memories and nodded in understanding when Kakashi resorted to using a paper seal used for suppressing chakra. No doubt it was a special seal Jiraiya had made for emergency cases such as this. Back to the point, Aka-Naruto's chakra reserves were completely integrated into the use of the seal—Naruto suspected that his father in this reality sealed both the Yin and Yang of the Kyuubi's chakra, but this disadvantage did not prove anything unless he found more damning evidence to the contrary—that even using a fraction of it would cause the collapse of the Kyuubi's prison, like taking away the foundations of a tower.

"That's why I'm here," Naruto said. "I'm going to keep you safe." Or rather, the seals he placed around the Kyuubi's prison was going to keep Red—and in effect, Naruto as well—safe. "You'll be fine."

The redhead nodded once, a simple up-then-down motion.

He told the kid to close his eyes before closing his own. The thing about Mizuki was that he most definitely had a one-track mind. Naruto figured as much when the bastard attempted to do the same risky thing twice. This second time, however, Naruto knew how to counter whatever trick the chuunin had up his sleeve. But that didn't mean his own method had risks of its own. He had to take the child's body into account and what effects his manipulations could do in the long term. Considering that most of what had happened to his original body whenever he did this were quite beneficial in his line of work, he didn't mind much about the major details back then. But he wasn't in his original body anymore, and this younger body was probably more susceptive to the harmful effects if Naruto couldn't control it. Still, he had to take that risk. It was either the harmful effects or Aka-Naruto's death.

What Naruto intended to do was gather the surrounding Natural Energy from outside and fuse it with Aka-Naruto's chakra pathways, thus creating Senjutsu chakra. It would be a lot like Naruto going into Sage Mode, but instead of him being the battler, he was taking the role of his shadow clone, collecting the Natural Energy through meditation and sending it directly to Aka-Naruto. He also took the part of controlling the flow of Natural Energy inside this body, because Aka-Naruto couldn't. If he had done otherwise, Red would've turned into a frog stone statue faster than he could utter "Rasengan!"

The use of Natural Energy and fusing it with his chakra system had its long term effects, which Naruto had experienced about three months after the Pain Invasion. The overall effects were more physically oriented and seemed like a watered-down version of Sage Mode minus the trademark frog eyes, orange eye shadows, and the enhanced sensory ability. His muscles were now denser, making them more durable when strained. His bones were affected similarly, and it would take two or three enhanced punches from Sakura to crack a rib (he discovered that from experience when he entered Sakura's tent without warning —this was two weeks before she died—and had an eyeful of pale, bare skin and a small patch of hair—which, Naruto noted, matched the curtains—as Sakura looked back at Naruto, shocked, wide-eyed, and then finished up putting on her panties before clobbering the living daylights out of him. Waking after being bedridden for almost a week, he concluded that the residual pain from Sakura's chakra-enhanced fists was worth the sight). His reaction time had improved by leaps and bounds, senses more acute and susceptible, and battle instincts sharpened to almost legendary. He became the perfect soldier personified, and it would take an army to take him down.

Madara, however, only needed himself, a handful of bijuu, and an ace in the hole to defeat him. In hindsight . . . Naruto was now hoping to control the shinigami and force that deity to copulate God where the sun doesn't shine. Without lubrication, too.

The Natural Energy swirled in his gut, manifesting into a tranquil and condensed ball. He pushed it into his arms, through his hands, and into the slender body of his redheaded counterpart. Aka-Naruto squirmed, feeling uncomfortable with the foreign energy, but Naruto reassured him that it was okay, he'd handle everything. But that was easier said than done. Controlling the Natural Energy remotely was difficult, but he'd manage. Back in his original body, he'd been able to gather and control enough Natural Energy to rival more than half of the chakra in his body, a feat that had Fukasaku's jaw dropping before he got through the initial shock and laughed his wrinkly ass off in both pride and unequaled astonishment. For Aka-Naruto, a small amount of Natural Energy was all he really needed for protection, so at least the difficulty evened out.

But simply put, this would be the first time Naruto had done Sage Mode by proxy. Although he was the controller and the gatherer of Natural Energy, he was not in control of the body, but with the amplification of his senses due to him becoming one with nature and the stronger connection he currently had with the possessor of the physical body (Aka-Naruto), he at least could "feel" the outside world through Aka-Naruto. He could hear the words of Mizuki, although muffled because of the genjutsu distorting some of Red's senses, and see the blurred images of the villagers crowding near the elevated platform he and Mizuki were on.

_A public execution?_ Naruto thought. _That's pretty bold of Mizuki. But why aren't there any of the police stopping him already?_ He somehow knew the answer to that, but he refused to acknowledge such a possibility. He didn't like hearing that the justice system was as corrupt here as it was in his old world. Konoha always praised peace, but it was a mask as thickly layered as his own ADHD façade.

_How Konoha could keep a straight face when there were as much skeletons in its closets as the other hidden villages, I would never know_.

He didn't intend to know, either. It was best not to.

The Natural Energy began to fluctuate when Naruto distracted himself to the newfound extension of his senses, leaking out and degrading the connection. He quickly fixed the problem, but this slipup already caused some minor effects in Aka-Naruto's chakra system. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't necessarily good either. It was just energy idling around the kid's system, uncontrolled and severed from the main connection between giver and receiver. Naruto supposed that he could gather that trail of energy and pull it back into the main group, but that would weaken his control again, thus leaking energy out as he tries to put some back in. So it was best to leave it alone for now, at least until the need for Natural Energy was gone.

The mindscape rumbled. Naruto held onto the kid's hands when he started shouting in pain. Feeling the pain, though not as profound as the affected party, Naruto grimaced but kept most of his composure. His body didn't twitch an inch, his posture relatively unmoving. He channeled some of the Natural Energy and chakra to begin healing the minor burn wounds Aka-Naruto had obtained from the incident, though he would have to seal away the sight of a police ninja's face getting burned to a crisp—skin shedding, melting, blackening to ashes and soot, the man's whole face expressing agony and fear—from Red's memories later. Naruto didn't want to live inside the mind of a traumatized kid; his own experiences and his life were traumatizing enough.

Mizuki had already made his move, but at least Naruto protected his counterpart as best as he could. The Natural Energy did its work and made Aka-Naruto's physical attributes increase exponentially. It would take approximately twenty simultaneous shots of the Grand Fireball technique to cause third-degree burns with Red's hardened and flame- and heat-resistant skin. Not sure about the hair, though. Well, with the kid being alive after that point-blank explosion, having hair on his head was probably the least of his worries. For now, anyway. Naruto thought the red hair looked good on him.

He thought he just needed to keep the Natural Energy up for a few more minutes until help got Aka-Naruto to the hospital, but it seemed luck began to tip in between sides.

His control over the Natural Energy was disentangled abruptly, like the sudden snapping of rope supporting a heavy object which then dropped to the solid ground below. It all turned to chaos, then. The remnants of Natural Energy that hadn't been converted to Aka-Naruto's chakra started infecting his system, using the idling bundle of Natural Energy as a homing beacon to gather all the fragments into one place, like a magnet attracting scattered iron filings.

Naruto feared the worst. The now uncontrolled Natural Energy was deliberately seeking chakra to produce Sage chakra, and if there were a large amount of it in the host's chakra system without the host filtering its deep connection with nature, then the host's body would start turning to stone.

He would've gotten into action once more, hoping that he could fight back the surge of Natural Energy and Sage chakra invading more of Aka-Naruto's chakra pathways, but the way they moved and acted seemed strange to him. It was like—

_Shit!_

The Natural Energy wasn't acting like a parasite. The only times that it willingly sought living chakra to create Sage chakra was either it was demanded by the environment (Naruto still couldn't understand what the old toad meant by that) or to suppress an onslaught of demonic chakra.

And because of his attention solely on the dire situation, he didn't realize until it was too late that the Kyuubi had found a loophole in his seal array. And this loophole also happened to negate the rules enforced by the Eight Trigrams Seal that kept the demon behind its cage.

The Kyuubi was finally breaking free.

* * *

She had hope. She always held onto hope, somehow knowing that it could be the light that would save her from her darkness. But hope was nothing more than a concept of either pleading for a better world or wishing that reality wasn't as evil as it seemed. It was a contradiction to what she always thought of life. Anything could happen to anyone, be it sudden death, losing a limb or an eye, having their heart broken, their dreams shattered, or losing what they'd cherished most.

For Kushina to witness the rising red-yellow flames and to feel its intense heat that it was close to burning her face's skin, she abandoned hope. Nothing was more painful than seeing what she had always feared would happen. She had been given a second chance to protect him, to make sure that no madman could come close to killing him again. But she failed. And failed it miserably.

And from that moment onward, she turned away from grief and sorrow, even if it were for just a few minutes. Vengeance fuelled her veins, retribution made her concentrate, justice demanded her to raze the bastard who had killed her son, consequences be damned.

Mizuki smirked before making a run from the place. With her senses strangely acute—probably from another burst of adrenaline—she aimed a shot at the Achilles' heel tendon and executed it. The kunai brushed past her fingertips as the crowd in the bazaar screamed and ran and dropped to the ground. One of them ran perpendicular to Mizuki's direction, covering him from her sight, and she found an almost instinctual certainty that her projectile would intercept that villager than her intended target. So she readied another kunai, searched for the right pair of running feet, aimed for the tendon, and took the shot. The villager got by without getting hit, which she was thankful for, but neither of her two kunai hit flesh, but the solid soil of the market square.

She rushed through the throng of panicking villagers who were all running away from the explosion. She pushed people away, jumped over huddled ones who were pushed down by others, maneuvered her way through the small gaps in the crowd, and once even elbowed a fortyish man who had the eyes of a broken soldier experiencing momentary flashbacks to wars he had lived through. She didn't feel the least bit sorry; the man had it coming to him, thought it would be okay to just grab the nearest person and start sobbing and pleading like a prisoner of war about to be killed. She wasn't in the mood for sob stories or tales of survival. The enemy was still within her reach, and if she didn't get to him before the police did, then that small window of opportunity for vengeance would be lost.

And then what would that leave her?

Kushina wished not to think of it. She only had to act for now, and let the consequences come later. This was all for Naruto. All for him.

Sliding her last kunai into her right hand (she could only carry a maximum of three to look most conspicuous when in civilian clothing), she adjusted it into her favored reverse-position. Slashing random villagers just so they could give her a berth was not on the agenda. While she doubted that the agonized screams of the villagers would be differentiated from the general panic of everyone, she didn't want to attract attention to herself when Mizuki somehow could discern the difference. He showed the prowess of a jounin when they fought earlier, despite his chuunin instructor status. She wasn't about to underestimate the bastard a second time.

Still, keeping her head up, her body standing straight while people incessantly pushed others around, and her sight on the white-haired child-killer was extremely taxing. She wasn't sure where the members of the police force were anymore. At least one of them would have to go back to the stage and extinguish the fire, so that left three or less others already in pursuit. Not to mention their backup, if they ever came around.

She was nearing the end of the bazaar where three passages into the streets of Konoha were situated. She couldn't allow the bastard to get any farther. The market square was fine because it was on open ground, but if he were to enter one of the streets, then he had much more chances of getting away. Narrow alleyways, stores, rooftops of dissimilar multistoried buildings, and other hiding places. None of them could be found on open ground.

"Shit!"

She changed course, wanting to intercept Mizuki before he could reach another five yards in his escape. She got through the crowd as fast as she could while still keeping an eye on the mop of white hair among the rest. The continuous shouts were beginning to dull her sensitive ears, making it hard to concentrate, but she did her best to zone them out. Mizuki was too covered by the throng for a decisive shot, but at least she was making progress in intercepting him in time, although she didn't know which passage Mizuki would use.

Before she could think more about it while sprinting through an obstacle-laden area, a chaotic burst of demonic chakra, containing such malevolence and dread that it had affected everyone in the market, certain it'd cause respiratory failure to the faint- and weak-hearted, manifested in the middle of the square. She knew this chakra, felt it no more than five years ago, on that tragic night.

"No . . ."

Halting her sprint, looking back, the once frantic crowd imitating her movements in stunned silence and unhidden fear, a colossal wave of evil intent surged through everyone, quickly surpassing the feeling of dread Kushina had felt earlier. This was undeniably _it_. She knew what the Eight Trigrams Seal's purpose was, and with Naruto's death its services were complete. But the Kyuubi no Youko was an embodiment of chakra filled with the anger and hatred of humans. Such emotions and demonic essence could not dissipate by the snap of a finger, more so by the death of its container. And with nothing to contain the beast—

Screams filled the air. Panic was minimal before this. Now it was complete havoc. Villagers, no longer caring for honor, courtesy, and kindness, made mad dashes away from the malevolence's origin, even going so far as to punch and kick their way through rather than mere pushes. Some of the unlucky villagers who fell to the ground were stepped like doormats, with the steppers unmindful of how much pain they were inflicting to their fellow men. Some were surely dying, not from the presence of their deepest fears but from the stampede growing in the general area. This was fear at its most primal stage, the need for the human being to survive at all costs, condemning morals for the betterment safety of the self.

No doubt this was the same as that night. The same chaos. The same panic. The same fear. The same threat.

The Kyuubi had been released.

* * *

"Hm? Hey, did you hear that?"

Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she replied, "Hear what?"

"I thought I heard an explosion."

"That's probably your stupidest excuse yet," she deadpanned. "If you really don't want to go shopping with me, you can just say so."

Usually, he wouldn't mind going shopping with her, but this trip was a little too much for him to take. He could feel a lot of women staring at him—his reputation as an open _Icha Icha_ reader was well known among the female population in Konoha. Normally he'd ignore the attention, but this was not about his reading preferences because his precious little pocketbook was nestled neatly inside his back belt pouch. This was actually about him being in the middle of the women's lingerie section inside the biggest department store in Konoha, assisting his female friend (they hadn't made anything official . . . yet, anyway) in picking out a new set of provocative undies. For someone with zero experience about this embarrassing situation, he never realized that it was _very_ embarrassing. There were a few other males inside this section, too, but they were already married with the woman that came with them, so pervert radars were exempted from them. For Kakashi—he was young, single, a smut book reader, and most of all, _single_. At least for the time being. Damn, the stares were already getting to him.

"It's not an excuse this time. I really _did_ hear something." He meant it. If he had wanted to get out of this place, thereby losing a lot of relationship points with her, he would've said something akin to Obito's usual 'Sorry I'm late' excuses. Not that he thought of leaving; he'd at least endure this since it was probably payback for the smut book shopping he did with her a week ago. Though he couldn't be quite sure where that thought came from, because he was referring to a woman who at least tolerates his openly perverted behavior—not to Jiraiya's extent, but close enough. Her asking him instead of her female friends to help her in buying provocative lingerie was an enigma in and of itself.

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's not just your imagination?"

Kakashi shrugged. "It could be, but I don't think so." He grunted, lifting his left hand to chest-level involuntarily. Realizing where the pain came from, he took off his glove and stared at the symbol in the center of his palm: 一 (_**tr.**_ Kanji for 'one'). "Shit," he murmured.

"What's wrong?"

"It's the seal," he said. "Naruto . . ." He showed her the character burned into his palm. This was a seal he had asked Tenzou, the second ninja in history who could control the Mokuton (_**tr.**_ "Wood Release"), to put on him. After the incident with Naruto drawing on chakra for the first time and the subsequent release of the Kyuubi's demonic presence, Kakashi believed it was wise to have some kind of device to alert him anytime, anywhere, if it ever happened again. Other than Jiraiya, the Third, and probably Kushina, he was the most qualified in suppressing the Kyuubi.

Understanding the implications as well, she put back the set of lingerie she had been browsing on the rack and then nodded at him.

They left the department store quickly, right in time for the symbol to change: 二(_**tr.**_ 'two').

"Where could he be?" she asked him.

Kakashi was silent for a moment. "This way!" he exclaimed, heading deeper into the market district. His friend followed after him.

"What do you think caused the seal to crack?" she asked. Before long, they leapt onto the rooftops, away from the constant dexterous maneuvering and dodging in the afternoon market rush. Like him, she knew that this predicament must be brought to the Hokage at once, in case Kakashi's seals were not enough to suppress the demon, but she didn't like the thought of Kakashi taking on Naruto on his own. He thought of the kid as his surrogate little brother and the last living legacy of his treasured sensei. Such emotional attachment did not bode well for his efficiency. She trusted him that he wouldn't let emotions get the better of him, but that didn't stop her worrying.

"Don't know," Kakashi answered, his gaze solely at the rising level of demonic chakra. It was so potent and blood-curdling that swirls of red were forming in the air above the source. "But it must've been an enemy ninja."

"That would imply that they know what little Naruto contained. Him being a jinchuuriki is supposed to be a village secret."

"Oh it is," he agreed. "But would that stop loose-lipped villagers from telling?"

"It's a capital offense. Surely they'd know better—"

"Some secrets mean nothing to people. It's just the way they are."

"Kakashi," she said softly, but didn't continue. Below them, they saw the afternoon crowd panicking as the waves of malevolent intent from the demonic chakra slithering into their fears, robbing them of their sense of security. In front, the red swirls thickened and twirled, forming what looked like a rope, before a sudden wave of much darker and eviler intent almost knocked Kakashi and her off the rooftop they had landed on. She was close to slipping off the edge, but Kakashi grabbed her and pulled her back in time. The red rope melded, turned into a magnificent red tail.

As Kakashi felt another burning sensation on his palm, two more tails shot out and came into view. Looking at the new symbol was unneeded. The three wagging tails were reminiscent of how a dog indicated its excitement, which Kakashi believed to go well with the Kyuubi's current state of mind. It was more than happy—_elated_, perhaps—to almost be free of its five-year-old prison. These tails were devastating the towers around the market district, their exact lengths Kakashi estimated to be a hundred feet, taller than an eight-story building. He wasn't sure how anyone could subdue one of those, much less three, and a lot less if new tails appeared.

"Go and tell Hokage-sama about this," Kakashi ordered her.

"No," she retorted. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"I won't be; there'll be other ninjas in the vicinity to help me. But I need you to inform the Third at once."

"Someone else must've beaten me to it already."

Kakashi sighed. There was just something about her stubbornness that reminded him of a certain female redhead. It annoyed and impressed him at the same time.

"Kurenai," he said softly, mimicking what she had done a minute ago, like a parent telling their kid that he didn't have time to play with her.

"Don't give me that tone!" She scowled. "And don't pull your rank on me, either."

He sighed and slumped his shoulders. He was a jounin, she was a chuunin. He was nineteen, she was twenty. Age didn't really matter to them, or even to ninjas in general. Ranks, however, were important to remember and if a lower-ranked shinobi displayed insubordination, then it spelled trouble for the leader. But Kakashi was liberal, so Kurenai wasn't really in trouble; he didn't even order her anything yet, too. That was a big point.

"All right, I give," he said, acting like a whipped husband. "Just stay as close to me as you can."

"Any thoughts on strategy?"

They jumped off the rooftop towards another and then another, moving closer to the gigantic foxtail trio.

"Don't know if what I have in mind will work until I make sure Naruto's intact."

"What do you mean by 'intact'?"

Suddenly, they were joined by Gai, who was on his way there as well. He seemed to be the only one teaming up with them, as other ninjas in the village were leaping over the other rooftops near and far. "It seems that something unyouthful has come our way, my masked rival and Kurenai-san."

Kakashi said to Kurenai, "That the Kyuubi hasn't covered its host with a shell thicker than the jinchuuriki chakra cloak. The seals won't work unless the contact is skin to skin."

"Then how about I punch a hole through the shell, Kakashi!" Gai shouted. "The springtime of youth does not quiver from evil!"

"And do you have a plan B?" Kurenai asked.

"Jiraiya-sama also gave me a suppression seal, but it's less effective. In Naruto's current state, the best it could do is distort the Kyuubi's possession and control for five seconds before the Kyuubi manages to burn the seal."

"And plan C?"

"We make one last stand," he answered gravely.

"A noble way to die, I suppose," Gai said, this time quietly and solemnly, beside him.

"Hm? Oh, Gai. I didn't see you there."

_Curse you, Kakashi, and your very hip ways!_

* * *

"Naruto!"

The kid's semi-existence within the mindscape shattered and was engulfed in a cloak of deep red chakra. As if perceiving the threat, Aka-Naruto swiped his right hand to the side, like how one shoos a fly on their face. Since Red was the Ultimate God within this mindscape, Naruto had no other choice but to obey the laws the boy was enforcing. One of those laws happened to be something akin to Kyuubi's prowess: 'one swipe of its tail could summon tsunamis or some sort.' Naruto felt the strong push of the wind from Red's little swipe and he was thrown hundreds of yards away.

Naruto didn't know what really happened. Sure, he might've suspected that the Kyuubi had found a loophole in the seal he placed, but there were two problems with that. One was the nature of the loophole. Naruto created that seal himself, and although it was untested, it should've acted on the eight failsafe codes he had included into the seal's central mainframe and peripheral markings. He even double-checked it minutes ago and it was perfectly fine! He had seen nothing wrong. No damage alert, no escape attempts, nothing. The Kyuubi had been pretty quiet for the past few days—probably conceded to the fact that it was stuck inside that cramped prison. He couldn't figure out why this had happened.

Looking towards the slightly possessed Aka-Naruto trying to fight the Kyuubi's influence while agonizing over the poisonous effects of the demonic taint searing his system, Naruto understood that answers could not be found here. At least quick enough to ensure Aka-Naruto wouldn't die in the process. From trying to save a life, it somehow spiraled down into something into much more dangerous. Now it was not just one life at stake, because the whole village was in trouble if he didn't contain the threat before the seal collapsed completely.

_**The village was decimated. Nothing was left but rubble. The Hokage mountain was reduced to a pile of giant stones, the faces that had been sculpted at the side became like the rest of Konoha, nothing more than memories of a once powerful village. With only a small band of ninjas, most of the civilians, and a couple of elders left to try and rebuild their Will of Fire during the crisis of the Fourth Great Shinobi War, they were not prepared for the second wave of the invasion barely a week after the first. Madara didn't just want to destroy Konoha, but to make it fall down to its knees over and over until the proud Will of Fire of the people had been completely burned out.**_

Naruto narrowed his eyes, turned away from the screams of his counterpart, and exited the white room. He couldn't save Aka-Naruto from his suffering the way he was now. It was only thanks to the fragments of senjutsu still in their system that the demonic chakra had been simmered down to roughly a fifth of its potency, like adding paint thinner in a can of paint.

To take down the Kyuubi right away would be to face it head-on. That didn't seem to be much of a problem in itself, but simply taking down the demon fox in a one-on-one fight had unfair odds. His God-like abilities were nonexistent when he was inside that sewer place (the teleportation ability happens to be the exemption), so he had to fight with his own prowess. He didn't mind fighting the Kyuubi, but he was more worried about how long the fight would take. The last time he and the fox had fought (this was when he tried to master the Kyuubi's chakra, so unlocking its cage was mandatory), it lasted for over eight hours, which ended up in a stalemate. Thankfully, he had enough strength to push the Kyuubi back into its cage and lock it again. Naruto didn't think he'd survive doing that again until he had grown much stronger for the next battle. Then he found the suicide jutsu.

Entering the sewer maze, dashing through knee-deep water, he came to the fox's prison, the seals etched all over the walls shining bright red, contrasting the dark orange tint of the light in this place. The seal stuck to the center of the giant cage was half torn, its left side to the middle displaying a very jagged tear, as if it had been cut zigzag.

"That . . . does not look good," Naruto said offhandedly.

Behind the cage, the demon fox roared out its contempt at him. It didn't bother using words; just the smell of its breath and the ringing in his ears after the roar annoyed Naruto enough to sigh through gritted teeth. He rarely did that, if ever.

"I suppose negotiations are out?" he asked, to which all he got in reply was another roar along with the bashing of the fox's forepaws on the doors of the cage, which rattled in resistance. "Thought so."

Since talking to the damn fox was out—or rather, it was never an option to begin with—he started scanning through the complex lines of the seals, looking for something damnable enough to warrant his attention. If there was a fault in the seal array, then he'd find it. But it seemed that doing this alone would take too long, so he did the trademark fore and middle fingers' cross handseal and summoned eighty clones, and then designated each of them to a specific area of the array. With the seal he placed covering most of the room, the amount of clones needed was essential. Now while his clones were busy looking for the faults in _his_ seal, the original Naruto turned his attention to the original seal pasted onto the gates.

The lower half of the paper was close to dangling. The tear had grown longer and wider. Naruto wasn't sure if he could be able to fix it properly.

He moved closer to the gates.

The Kyuubi let out another roar, creating ripples and growing waves on the knee-deep water, the force of the wind pushing his blond hair and the long tails of his forehead protector back. It seemed to have grown more aggressive for every time Naruto came closer to its prison, as if it were—

* * *

A matching roar from inside Red's mindscape tore through the market square, shaking the equilibrium out of a few rookie ninjas who hadn't felt the overwhelming malevolence of the demon fox at point-blank range five years ago. Its loud, reverberating shriek quenched those traumatized from before with newfound dread. The old scars were bleeding, figuratively speaking.

Kakashi held onto Kurenai's elbow before she fell over from the shock on her equilibrium. It felt like her insides had gone into a screeching halt (her heart skipped two beats; her lungs somehow shrunk, forcing her to release the air inside like how someone reacts to getting the wind knocked out of them; her eyes registered nothing but white for two seconds; her ears experiencing tinnitus, the relentless ringing, a symptom of noise-induced hearing loss) while her legs suddenly gave out on her. She clutched at her left chest, took deep breaths that were broken from her panic, and righted herself before thanking her companion.

As much as her eyes, which were still recovering from their momentary blindness, could see, two new tails had been summoned, totaling the amount to five.

Things did not look—

* * *

Naruto sprang into action almost immediately when he realized how severe the situation had deteriorated. This was no longer a simple sealing objective, but now a full blown battle of wills, and sadly the true owner of this body was incapacitated for the moment. So this battle was all up to him. He didn't like the sound of it.

He wasn't sure he'd win against another fight with this Kyuubi. Sure he was able to stretch his old fight with the demon fox to a stalemate, but that was in _his_ reality fighting _his_ Kyuubi no Youko. And while he wasn't sure how being in control of the body as well as the mindscape could help him tip the scales to that astounding tie he and the Kyuubi had been in, he _was_ sure that trying to win over this version of the demon fox would be a lot harder than he'd think. Simply put, there were definite differences between this world and his old one, so it should be wise to assume that his old tactics in trying to gain the upper hand during his earlier skirmishes with the fox would not work for this one at all.

"I . . . will . . . get . . . _**OUT**_!" Its deafening bellow pierced his ears to tinnitus oblivion, and Naruto was certain that they were beginning to bleed. The fox's influence and power of the mindscape was vastly becoming stronger by the second, and already his clones were disintegrating from not only the toxic aura of demonic chakra surrounding the cage but also the way the seals burn them into a crisps by the slightest touch. And processing the shocked information from over twenty clones dispersing at the same time, it seemed to have left a lasting impression that those seals were not to be tampered with for the time being.

Unfortunately, his remaining clones didn't get the memo, so it took another two batches of clones dispersing from both the incinerates-you-within-a-second seals and the poisonous demonic chakra of the fox. When caution finally settled into the clones' mindsets, there were only ten of them left.

To Naruto, that didn't really matter. With his expertise in creating an army of himself, processing the onslaught of information became close to involuntarily for his head. It was like a muscle, when you work on it for an extended period of time, it would strengthen and become more efficient in its assigned task.

What really mattered to Naruto right now was calculating how long it'd be for him to keep the demon at bay. The cage was close to bursting from the relentless attacks of the Kyuubi. So far, the best he could do at this moment would be to keep the seal paper at the center of the gates intact, despite the tear slowly increasing in size. He climbed up the cage using the basic tree-walking technique and grabbed hold of the main seal, repositioning the dangling part of the paper to its normal place. From the other side, the Kyuubi let out another roar—not as loud as the previous, thank God—before engaging itself into another pseudo-battering-ram bash. Naruto almost lost his balance from the subsequent vibrations and might've helped along in tearing the seal completely when he, trying to regain good footing on the vertical surface, flailed his arms about with his hand still holding onto the delicate paper. He stopped himself before it could get any worse, but the gravity of the situation still got to him. He couldn't handle this threat alone.

Not having much options now, he turned to the only help he could get.

"Rambo!" he called, "Rambo, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," came the voice of the ram, echoing around the room as the Kyuubi continued its bashing unmindful of anything else. "Need help?"

"Try to wake Aka-Naruto up! The Kyuubi will take control much faster when he's asleep."

"Right, try to delay the inevitable, you got it."

"That's not exactly encouraging, dumbass," he grumbled.

"Oh, before I forget, some extra help is on the way."

"Extra help?"

"Think back on _your_ experience and you'll know what I mean."

Naruto furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, did he mean—"

He didn't finish his sentence as another presence entered the room. Someone familiar, someone he should've known would exist here. He—

* * *

Kushina would've lost track of Mizuki after sensing the overwhelming presence of the Kyuubi's chakra permeating throughout the district if she hadn't been prepared for it. She'd admit that she had been preparing for such a scenario where the seal had gone haywire or no longer fit for keeping the beast in its cage, but she'd also admit that she didn't think very far ahead in any of her preparations because just the thought of . . . _disposing_ of the threat made her want to derail that train of thought, like someone looking away from a grotesque, frightening, Lovecraftian image. Despite the slight encumbrance due to the heavy feeling of the malevolent chakra, she carried herself onwards, keeping her eyes on that mop of white hair, wanting it stained with red where her kunai is stabbed deeply into the skull. Kushina was not about to show mercy at all.

But she was also torn with what she was about to do. Her son needed to be avenged, so she had to capture Mizuki, but the awakening of the Kyuubi also put the village and the civilians in danger, so Konoha's forces would need all the help it could get in trying to suppress the beast before any more havoc was wreaked upon them. With her profound knowledge in seals that could almost rival that of her husband and her husband's sensei, the teams dispatched to take control of the situation would gladly need her help.

Her duty to her village or duty to her personal vengeance.

It didn't seem right to pick one from the other—even if her conscience tried to tell her otherwise—but her resolve was absolute. They could handle the threat without her; the Hokage had a better chance of saving the village than she did. Mizuki had to die, and it had to be by _her_ hand.

She didn't look at the tail jutting out above the heights of the surrounding buildings, didn't respond to the blood-curdling roar that could only come out of the mouth of such a vile creature that God Himself was justified in forsaking it, didn't listen to the frantic pleas and screams of the villagers around her. She kept her eyes on her prey, who was as panicky as the rest of the villagers. No doubt he didn't expect this to happen in his plan. The Kyuubi could put even the most veteran shinobi into bouts of terror, as no one could control their sensitivity to the malignant intensity of its demonic chakra. Some were more vulnerable to it than others, and there was no such thing as immunity. If you were susceptible, then you were susceptible; no way around it at all.

And it was in that little known fact that Kushina stopped midstride when another blood-curdling roar surge through the streets, like a giant tidal wave, a growl so potent that it almost made her weak in the knees. The villagers in the street weren't as strong-willed as Kushina was, and so they were stunned by its sheer power and potency. Some fainted right away, others screamed in utter horror that she wouldn't be surprised if their minds had snapped from the strain of processing such an abysmal cry from the demon embodying human anger and hatred. Some of the ninjas heading towards the market square _looked_ unaffected, but they were just the same as her, a trained shinobi and resistant to demonic malevolence: they were all good at hiding their fears.

With some of the villagers going down to their knees, covering their ears to shut out the beast's gleeful growl—whimpering in hushed voices that this was all a dream, a nightmare, nothing could harm them, hahaha—Kushina had a better view of Mizuki in the street. He already caught sight of her too and dashed away, albeit in a subdued pace as while he was more resistant than the villagers, he seemed to be quite sensitive to its malicious aura. She felt the effects, too, but because she was keeping a leveled head in this situation, it took her less time to regain her bearings and continue the pursuit.

"You're mine," she whispered, fondling her last kunai as if it were her saving grace. Just a flick of the wrist and the white-headed chuunin would be eating dirt as he tries to nurse his bleeding ankle. That was all it would take. But she realized she didn't need to.

Mizuki tripped on a collapsed villager and his face hit the ground before he could soften the landing with his arms. He was moving like a half-drunk, his motor skills almost unresponsive but his mind still able to process information like he only had a pint of alcohol in his system. In his methodical means in escaping, panic had seeped through the cracks of his already unstable mind, and Kushina suspected that the presence of the Kyuubi's chakra played a small role in breaking the cage of the panic rat in him. The panic might've been with Mizuki all this time, and due to his emotion suppression training (a training course that had been mandatory in the final year of the Ninja Academy during the first three Great Shinobi Wars) he hid that part of himself better than any of the others. She wasn't sure if panic and insanity went hand-in-hand, but Mizuki sure seemed to have that case in his mentality.

The post-traumatic stress must've done a lot of things with his head, and it pushed him past the boundaries of sanity and morality. She knew a lot of friends who had fallen from the ordeals, the insurmountable weighing down of their minds when they were affected by the shellshocks. She had her own scars to tell stories of, but they were mostly kept to herself; not even her husband knew half of what she had gone through before her seeking sanctuary from Konoha. In this line of thinking, she should pity the poor man, but circumstances were different and there was no denying the righteous anger that pulsed through her veins, demanding retribution.

He went on all fours, trying to distance himself away from her despite its futility. He kept on muttering, "The Kyuubi, the Kyuubi . . . Tsubaki, where are you . . . Tsubaki, you're alive, right, we're gonna get married, have kids, be great parents, and watch them grow up to surpass us and, and, and"—he paused, as if he were pondering over something, and then broke into a grin that made even Kushina hesitate; it didn't look sane—"that's right, that's right, that's right . . . you're not here, you're not here, you're not here . . . hahaha . . . hehe—hahaha . . . not here, not here . . ."

Was this the one who killed her son?

". . . I got you a ring and everything, Tsubaki . . . it even has your birthstone . . ." He stopped crawling and just sat there, whirling his head around like a baby looking into the world for the first time.

Kushina was unsure now. While the anger didn't quiver or lessen at the pitiful sight, she found her morals reclaiming more and more of her thought patterns. She had been so driven by the anger that she hadn't stopped and thought over what she had been willing to do. If she could hear her husband now, he would've been quite disappointed in her. To him, vengeance only led to more hatred, which fuels the cycle that prevents the world from experiencing true peace. And from within that mindset, he also believed in the phrase Kakashi had learned from his mistakes and from his dead teammate: _Those who don't obey the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash._

"I love you, Tsubaki . . . I love you, I love you so much, did I tell you that I love you . . . hehe—hahaha . . ."

Did she really put personal vengeance over her village, her home?

She shook the thoughts out of her head, but they didn't want to leave. Nevertheless, she stepped forward, holding the kunai in the proper stabbing position. Just one stab to the head was what all it would take. She'd listen to more of his ramblings before she plunged the sharpened tip of her blade towards the center of his forehead, listen to the audible crack of the skull as something foreign pierced through it. Applying so much force in her clenching, she didn't realize that her hand was shaking. She grabbed her right hand with her left, raised them both high, and—

Mizuki looked up at her, his eyes as dead as his ragged face appeared, and said, "They're dead."

An image of her home village in ruins.

An image of the family she had there.

An image of Minato, smiling eternally with a faint blush in his cheeks, just like the time when they first kissed.

An image of Naruto, looking so much like her, smiling the same way her husband did.

Not realizing she had screamed when she slammed her arms down, Kushina could only stare at the dead eyes of an already dead man, dead inside, dead in mind, dead in soul.

And she kept on screaming, also not realizing that the sadness and grief were finally out of their cages and the tears slowly cascaded down her blood-stained cheeks.

* * *

Under the cast of orange light pervading the sewer/boiler room, his white cloak flowing up as he leaped up to the center of the gates, blond hair looking almost a lighter shade of orange, calculating blue eyes that seemed to enhance the cold fury hidden behind the poker face, Minato Namikaze slammed his right palm onto the paper seal moments after Naruto released his hold on it when he felt the older blond's presence.

It was only a tiny glimpse before Minato ordered him to move out of the way, but a tiny glimpse was enough for Naruto to recognize the black spiral marking drawn into the Yondaime's palm. In fuinjutsu, the use of the spiral as a binding mark for demon sealing was part of the basics. But such spiral designs were thrice as big as what could be drawn within the boundaries of an adult human's palm, because for demon sealing, size _did_ matter. Naruto knew this; Minato _should_ know this. But instead of doubting, Naruto entrusted Minato with this job. Minato was the Yondaime Hokage, renowned with an extensive knowledge of fuinjutsu. In either reality, this was a true fact. And putting his trust to this decisive moment, leaping off the gate when palm met with paper, Naruto became a witness to his father's genial work in action as his body splashed into the knee-deep water below.

The paper seal, its lower section dangling on like a hangman, was implanted with the spiral mark, which was overlapping the kanji. Little by little, the frightening tear was disappearing. It was as if he were watching the event on rewind. Naruto looked towards his father, who had just jumped off from the iron gates as Naruto had, doing a backflip midway before landing on the surface of the water. The aura radiating from the Hokage was just as intimidating, yet also gentle, as when he first met him, back when the Kyuubi had been close to being released in his old world. It made Naruto wonder how much of the tails were already jutting out in reality.

"I don't know if I should be cautious or hostile around you," Minato said with his back to him. Completely defenseless, but Naruto knew this was anything but. "Not after what you inadvertently done to my son's seal."

Naruto said nothing. How could he? The Yondaime was pinning the blame on him because it was true. _He_ was the one who modified the seals, which in all likelihood, started this whole mess in the first place.

"But after carefully observing the purpose of the seals you put up, it was easy enough to deduce that you were trying to keep the Kyuubi under lock and key, although it wasn't exactly enough."

Minato turned around, giving Naruto a small but proud smile. It made Naruto a little confused, unsure which direction the older blond was leading this conversation.

"Your modifications," he elaborated, his right hand gesturing to the molten hot seals drawn on the walls. "They act as amplifiers to the main seal. While I commend you for the ingenuity, since is by far the first time I've ever seen amplifiers for the Eight Trigrams Seal"—he shook his head, looking like a man who has just seen the dishonorable death of a noble warrior—"your seals weren't enough to keep the _real_ threat in."

"What?" Naruto blurted, sounding a little indignant. Minato may have tried being nicer with his blunt criticism, but this was months, if not _years_, of dedicated work on Naruto's part. Ever since he started studying seals, he already began work on those seals. Many designs had been changed, morphed, cut out, and most usually discarded, before he got to the ones he had used now.

From the other side of the cage, the Kyuubi had turned silent—no more growls, no more cage-bashing. But the malevolent chakra was still seeping into the kid's chakra system, poisoning his coils and his body. The paper seal, however, was fully fixed and looking like it hadn't even been tampered with.

"You didn't notice it, did you?" Minato asked.

"Noticed what?"

He sighed through his nose. "I'm sorry, but my time here is short. So I'll just have to get you up to speed quickly. I know who you are—"

"You looked into my memories!" It was an accusation, not a question. This was his father, but it was also not. And in some twisted way, Naruto didn't like him poking around places where he didn't have the right to.

"Naruto, just shut up and _listen_!" Minato shouted.

Feeling like an Academy student being drilled by their physical education instructor, he complied without so much as a complaint. Though if Minato had the time to listen closely, he would've heard his otherworld son cursing him under his breath.

"Okay, I know who you are, I know what happened outside, too. Rambo filled me in on that." Seeing Naruto's questioning look, he added, "Yes, I spoke to the sheep. And I thought I'd seen everything when I was alive. . ." He was silent for a few seconds. "After that, I came down here. There is something I've known about for quite some time, but couldn't tell you because of the seal."

"You were only supposed to come out when the amount of tails reached eight."

"Correct, but I'm afraid that in the meantime, only six are out."

"What? But how—"

"Am I here in front of you? Because truthfully, the seal recognized eight tails are out but only six are actually visible in the real world."

"Two invisible tails?" Naruto mused.

"The seal I've just placed won't hold the beasts for too long," he said. "The Eight Trigrams is no longer enough. You're going to have to help me graft a new seal to replace it."

"Wait, did you say _beasts_? As in plural?" Naruto did not like where this was going.

Minato looked grimly at him. He walked towards the prison gates. "You're not the only one who traversed to our reality."

Naruto followed him, peering into a section of the prison that he didn't bother observing (who would when a giant demon fox was slamming onto the cage doors like a mad ram?). And there lay another Kyuubi—his Kyuubi—looking sick and weak, its fur showing patches of gray, ears flopped down like a whimpering dog, mouth forming a parody of its former sneer, as if it held more of sheer pain than of malice. Naruto didn't need more convincing what this was, because he knew. He just _knew_ that this was the Kyuubi of his old world, unknowingly tagged along for the ride. But . . .

Kyuubi didn't seem an appropriate name for it anymore; there were only seven tails jutting out from it.


	8. Yellow And Red Make Orange, Right?

Date written: 22/10/10 – 07/12/10

Posted on FanFiction: 12/12/10

A/N: More character development, super action scenes you'd expect from low-budget films, and a big surprise at the chapter's finale. Quite a touch, even if it did take me more than a month to write it all up.

This chapter ends the tyranny plagued by the Kyuubi's "second coming." It's an abrupt end, but I'll be working on the denouement in the next chapter. This one is already quite long for me. After that—and the resolution of my surprise—there'll be a few time skips here and there. While I like talking about Aka-Naruto and his childhood, setting up the world will stagnate if I concentrate on just him. The world has to move on, that and I'm starting to find it boring. I'm close to making another Da Vinci (he was known to procrastinate a _lot_) as it is. So a change in scenery will do me and the story a whole amount of good.

I seriously want to get started on writing Naruto's first crush. Oh, the humanity!

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 8 ––**

**Yellow And Red Make Orange . . . Right?**

Relaxed in stance but alert in mind, fragile in appearance but strong in will, the once proud multi-tailed demon fox rested behind those large, thick wrought iron bars with its stronger and younger counterpart, not doing the least bit of help in getting them out of their prison. Naruto was certain that if it had been two giant foxes battering the prison door instead of one, things would've gone FUBAR way sooner. As it was, they were leaning on the edge of that worst case scenario, but not close enough to warrant warning bells just yet. Still, Naruto felt that warning bells should be ringed now once his eyes had set on that second fox. The fox from _his_ reality.

Shocked as he was, Naruto approached the bars of the prison without as much as a cautious glance towards the other occupant, which was silently seething on the other side, glaring at him and his father, shutting up its roars and growls after Minato plastered that seal on top of the original one. Naruto kept his eye on the now seven-tailed demon fox. There was just something about this picture that got his mind reeling after a big shock. And what a big shock this was, indeed.

But what shocked him the most about this was the pained expression on the old furball, and old seemed to be quite appropriate because with all those gray strands scattered along the once reddish orange coat accompanied by the squinted eyes and low growls for every shallow breath in, the Nanabi no Youko looked the part of an aged fox nearing the end of its lifespan.

"Seven?" Naruto inquired, eyes never leaving the pitiful fox. Funny, that; he never thought he'd see the day to actually show pity to the fox. He vaguely remembered going on a drinking session with some of the guys and saying to them that he'd be dead before he showed any kind of sympathy towards the burden in his belly. When you went to a drinking session with some of the guys, expect to lose all your inhibitions when such words that are in your thoughts are supposed to _stay there_ . . . and also expect to have your pants missing, have a splitting headache on top of a roof in the market district, and have a bottle of half-finished liquor in your hand while your shirt reeked of a woman's sexual odor. A night to remember . . . if not for the blackout anyway.

"Yeah," Minato said. "The other two tails are not in the mindscape."

"But how is that even possible?" Naruto slid a hand through his golden locks, ending it with rubbing his nape. Something didn't add up at all. "Tails don't just disappear . . . do they?"

"No," Minato answered, "they don't, although there have been theories that the amount of tails on a demon signifies their power level. More tails means stronger demon."

Naruto looked at him over his shoulder. "That's just bullshit."

He nodded. "I know. How they came up with that idea, nobody really knows."

"Yeah. The Eight-tailed Octopus-dude could beat my ass blindfolded if he wanted to. But it doesn't explain how there are _two_ missing tails from my world's Kyuubi."

"I have a theory," Minato admitted, "but with little information to refer to about transdimensional travelling, I don't think it'll hold much ground."

Having a small clue as to what he meant by trans-something-something, Naruto replied, "Better than nothing."

"All right." He crossed his arms and moved away from the cage. "Do you remember the technique you used to get here?"

"Yeah. It was specifically designed to destroy the Juubi by sacrificing the Rikudou Sennin."

"It was designed for the Juubi, not the Kyuubi. And I can still remember the instructions written on that old scroll when you read it." When he was asked how he came to know the contents of the scroll, Minato replied, "I looked into your memories. Using that jutsu was probably not a good idea."

"Gee, ya think," Naruto said sarcastically.

"But you didn't have much of a choice. It was a lose-lose situation, but you still chose the lesser of the two evils."

"I still think Kishimoto ripped off that idea from The Matrix," Rambo commented, his disembodied voice echoing through the room. "I mean, world illusion? A world created through sheer control over the minds of every human being on the planet? And don't Naruto and Neo have the same first and last letters?"

"Uh, what is he talking about?" Minato inquired.

"He gets like this sometimes. Keeps spouting on about names and places and things I don't understand half of the time. He's the personification of my insanity and conspiracy paranoia. I just know it."

"Does he do that often?"

"Not always. I told him to keep those conspiracies of his to a minimum when I'm around. Otherwise he'll be vomiting the rug again."

Minato ignored the burning curiosity in him to ask what his son meant by that.

"Going back to the matter at hand: So I chose to whack myself out of the board," Naruto said. "What does that have to do with what we're discussing?"

"It means everything, Naruto, because that's where it all started." He gestured to the cage. "How else do you think the Kyuubi from your world got here? Simply put, the suicide jutsu was incomplete from the very start because you hosted the Kyuubi not the Juubi. Tell me, would an Academy student be able to use an A-class jutsu?"

"No."

"Then what would happen if he tried to?"

"The jutsu would fail and he'd probably end up with chakra exhaustion."

"Now take that concept to yourself and the suicide jutsu. At the time, did you pass the requirements for it?"

Naruto thought back on the instructions he had read on the old scroll written by the Rikudou Sennin. The scroll contained all that he needed to know about the jutsu. Its earlier utilized handseals, the failed experiments (which almost did the legendary sage in), and the finalization. The instructions were clear, specific, and easy to learn. But there was one section near the bottom of the scroll that told of the sage teaching this technique to his subordinates, only to backfire when every single one who had used this technique were given a most painful death that no one could imagine when they had been captured by an enemy group. The captors were loose-lipped in telling the tales of the unearthly screams of their prisoners when they were given the chance in using the jutsu, their bodies mutilated by some unseen force. The strangest thing was that there was no bloodshed, as if the blood inside their bodies had disappeared along with the dismembered limbs.

"No," Naruto answered, "I didn't. And because of that . . . something else entirely happened?"

"If it were a normal human, then they might've died in the most painful way. You're different."

He rubbed his stomach. "_Was_ different, you mean. That furball isn't in my gut anymore."

"Yes, and there's nothing we can do to change that. You no longer have a physical body, so resealing it in you is a no go."

"So like you said before, you need help in grafting a more powerful seal. But what could be stronger than the Eight Trigrams?"

"My counterpart in your reality either did not know this or believed that the modifications I have in mind are impossible."

"How impossible?"

"Impossible enough that it's downright insane."

Naruto only took a second to think this over. "Let's do it."

His father looked at him as if he just admitted he liked watching scat flicks.

He just shrugged and added, "Do we even have a choice?"

"I suppose you're right. I was just expecting you to be more cautious about this."

"I've taken a lot worse. Besides, I've already labeled myself insane." Naruto didn't see the Catch-22 paradox in that statement. "So what do we have to do?"

"The first part would be to remove the Eight Trigrams completely. It'd tamper with the new seal if there were any remnants. Secondly, I need you to suppress the two demon foxes long enough for me to finish writing down the necessary seals. They have to be written _after_ the Eight Trigrams is removed; they might end up corrupt otherwise."

Naruto looked inside the cage. "I don't know. I could probably take on the Nanabi, but it doesn't look so good." _And it hasn't said a thing since we saw it. I'm sure the furball saw us._

"Then it's for the better." The mindscape shook. The Kyuubi ceased its idling in the corner and resumed bashing the cage door.

"IF YOU WANT A FIGHT, THEN COME AT ME, HUMAN! I PROMISE TO MAKE IT QUICK."

The other demon fox, the sickly one, wasn't fazed or made any attempt to help its counterpart.

"Do you know what happened to my reality's furball?" he asked Minato, ignoring the growls and death threats coming from the livelier canid.

"A delayed transportation is my best guess, Naruto."

"Delayed? How?"

"I don't know how. It just happened. It lay dormant behind that prison for days before enough of its energy from your reality came here and materialized it somewhat. As it is now, there're still two more tails still en route to here."

It made as much sense as Naruto could process for the moment, but something clicked in his head that granted him clarity to one question he had been seeking for answers. "And they're close, aren't they?" he asked. "If they weren't, then the seal wouldn't be reacting as if there were eight tails out instead of six."

"With the seal already partially destroyed, some of the programs have become corrupt and some have been deleted. Your modifications might have something to do with the former, by the way."

"Great, just great," Naruto murmured. He then looked up. "Rambo! How's the kid?"

"Can't get him to wake up at all. After your departure from the white room, he just turned . . . catatonic or something."

"How long do you think we have before the Kyuubi's fully released?" he asked Minato.

"Well, if the bridge to the mainframe is still relatively intact then we still have twenty minutes to spare," the Yellow Flash answered.

"And . . . if it's _not_ intact?" Naruto's stomach just lurched. It seemed to say Naruto wouldn't like the reply.

"With the time we've wasted talking? Four."

". . . we're fucked."

* * *

Inoichi Yamanaka could very well describe the emotion reverberating inside him when his eyes settled onto the streets below the rooftop on which he stood. Alone as he was while the rest of his team from the T&I department joined up with the other Konoha shinobi to contain the threat—despite its seeming futility—the sight he lay witness to was more effective than if he were with his team when he stumbled on this particular street. Whenever he went to work, he would put on the mask of indifference, as his predecessors had done, and shape up the new recruits. He was the Torture and Interrogation Department's best mind-reader, but he was also their most efficient 'drill instructor.' He was a tyrant among the greenhorns when it was time for his lessons, but he expected amazing results from his pupils and they delivered them smoothly. But no matter how many years of such mind-breaking work, he never once smiled or laughed whenever there was a time when laughter seemed the best way to relieve the stress and ease the mind before it overloads and enters meltdown. This was due to his mask. He laughed inside, he smiled inside, he took pride in his students' progresses inside. And sometimes he took pity on his victims inside. His stoicism was notorious inside the T&I department that a rumor about his attitude started after his wife's tragic death circulated throughout the ranks. He hadn't bothered abolishing it because, like the way his old teammate thought of fruitless actions, it would be too troublesome. If his T&I team had been here to witness this scene with him, he would've been able to sustain the mask of indifference long enough for him to calm his senses and to proceed with SOP in machine-like efficiency.

But he was alone and the mask was then shattered.

It was not the sight of civilians lying on the dirt, most unconscious, some awake but irresponsive to outside stimuli. It was not the sight of the six ominous tails protruding from the sector of buildings—three tails short of FUBAR. It was not even the sudden increase of dread and the potent malevolence of demonic chakra percolating the area. With such raw power so intense, he could almost feel his brain trying to override the fight-or-flight response so that he could trust more of his instincts and get the fuck out of there, quick. But he didn't, because he _needed_ to stay. That was his drive, that need. To fight came in second.

But what really destroyed his stoic face was seeing Kushina Uzumaki fiddling with a kunai in her right hand as she moved the sharp blade closer to her left wrist.

"No!" Inoichi leaped off the roof, rolled sideways as his feet touched the ground, and used the rolling momentum to kick start his dash towards the suicidal redhead. He was able to reach her and then whisk the kunai off her before the blade could make contact with her pale skin. "Uzumaki-san, no!" He grabbed her by the shoulders, crouching down so that they were eye-to-eye.

"Let me go!" she shouted, trying to wrench his hold of her.

Inoichi had to counter the grapple before she did harm to him. Her subsequent attempts were instinctually driven than the cold precision done by shinobi of her caliber. He had to stop her, so, left with no choice but to retaliate in kind, he subdued her with relative ease. They were soon eye-to-eye once more. Those glazy gray orbs showed such depression and grief that Inoichi could almost understand her for trying to slit her wrists. 'Almost understand,' however, did not mean he would let her do it.

"I'm just so tired," she murmured, tears glistening at the corner of her eyes. "I want to see them again. I don't want to be alone. Not again."

He wasn't sure whether it was because of her grief that she wrapped her arms around him or it was because of how desperate she sounded that she cried onto his chest, but his arms moved on their own and enveloped Kushina's shivering body as the sobs continued to pour out of her. Emotions were usually under his control and it took more than just simple grief-stricken women needing a crying shoulder to induce at least some semblance of a change in his facial expression. But when it came to Kushina Uzumaki, things were different. _He_ was different. There was never a time before this that he saw such a carefree and happy-looking woman be cut down into a pitifully wretched state, and it was because of this in mind (and in feeling, though he wasn't aware of this part yet) that he didn't bother putting back the mask. He somehow understood that to face this problem, he had to be in touch with something he showed no one but his family: his emotions.

He didn't know how long he had knelt on that street with the roars of the Kyuubi raging just beyond the buildings that block his field of vision. The battle still continued and there was a small part in his mind and heart that it wasn't going to stop anytime soon. The worst part, it seemed, had yet to come.

As he rubbed the redhead's back, his eyes wandered over to the street again, where he caught sight of something that made his blood boil. It was Mizuki, sitting upright, trying to nurse a bleeding left shoulder. How could he have not noticed him at all?

Shifting Kushina's position so that Inoichi was in front of her, he quickly fished out a kunai as he closed in on Mizuki. With her crying shoulder gone, Kushina sat on her buttocks with her knees wrapped around her arms and her head looking down. Despite his misgivings of leaving the woman alone, lest she decided to continue what he had halted, he needed to make sure that Mizuki was subdued. Although the white-haired chuunin hadn't made any sudden movements other than wincing from the stab wound Inoichi could see, it didn't seem like he wanted to get away or even do harm. Mizuki just kept rocking back and forth while one hand clutched his left shoulder and the other clutched his right bicep, his arms forming a deformed cross. The colors of his eyes looked glazed, vacant.

He had seen eyes like those before. Five years ago, amongst villagers whose minds could not handle the strain brought on by the chakra of the demon fox. If left untreated, the affected party would become nothing more than a human vegetable. Inoichi had been one of the many mind-walkers who were assigned to these unfortunate souls, so he knew the look in their eyes well. And he had always believed that the shinobi who had their minds healed (Mizuki included) during the aftermath of the Kyuubi attack had their sanity dangling on a chasm; all it needed was a push in the right direction, and they would forever be lost. Some had better resistances than others, but Mizuki's was already gone and his mentality had already fallen off the edge.

Was it wrong to pity such a sight? Was his attempted murder on Naruto a symptom of his degrading mentality?

Mizuki could be insane. It was a hypothesis, and would do little to keep the bastard alive. It would be so easy, just finish what Kushina started (he was sure that the wound on Mizuki's shoulder was because of Kushina; a change of heart on the last second, he supposed), slit the man's throat and make the official death as suicide. No one would defend the bastard. No one would _know_.

Inoichi pondered over this before he knocked Mizuki out with a blow to the head from his kunai's pummel. It may leave a bitter taste. It may give him regret in the future. And it may irk him that he was throwing away a golden opportunity in disposing a threat without the need of courtroom procedures and jury decisions. But he knew that this path should be followed.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he said to himself.

Moments later, a team of chuunin had come to carry the unconscious civilians away from the Kyuubi's wanton carnage. And Inoichi let them take Kushina and Mizuki without protest. He was still needed in the battlefield. His team, his village, still needed him.

* * *

Adrenaline pumped, muscles tensed, eyes narrowed, Hiruzen Sarutobi looked out into the market district where the heaviest damages were being done by the beast that almost decimated Konoha five years ago. On both of his flanks there were his advisors and former teammates, Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado. They were all garbed in their battle outfits, armed to the teeth with weaponry and techniques to help the rallying forces of Konoha to secure the perimeter before the demon fox could move elsewhere and continue its destruction of the village. Hiruzen wanted to go into the frontlines and take this fight directly to the demon, just like what his successor had done, but his advisors urged him not to. It wasn't just the risk of losing a village leader while Konoha was in danger; it was also for the village morale. The death of a leader would be like beheading a snake. Remove the head and the body will soon follow.

But what choice did they have, really, if he was one of a handful of people who had the power to actually suppress the Kyuubi and send it crawling back into the seal from whence it had been released from? Hiruzen knew that Jiraiya was already forming a makeshift team in the west to enter the battlefield while Tsunade was simultaneously doing her best to help the evacuation and tend to the wounded. The Konoha police were helping the frontline shinobi, but their forces were dwindling. For every minute that passed, two of their men were either dead or incapacitated.

The six tails jutting out from Konoha's high-rise buildings felt like a bad omen.

So far there were only sightings of the beast's tails swinging and swaying all around, destroying towers, swiping ninjas off their feet, and carrying torrential gales that packed plenty of debris for lethal projectile attacks. The head and body was nowhere to be seen as far as the reports went, but with Hiruzen far back from the devastation and with his forces concentrating more on acting than thinking (they leave that to strategists and leaders when a tailed beast is in the equation), he couldn't be certain if this sudden appearance was due to the beast's release or something else.

No matter how much he tried to remove from his mind the irrelevant topic, it just kept pushing through his defenses, as if it were meant to be there and meant to show a message to him. But this message seemed to be in code, because Hiruzen hadn't a clue as to what it wanted to say. All he understood was that this incident somehow involved the anomaly Inoichi Yamanaka had found within Naruto Uzumaki's mind, an anomaly so strange and unfathomable that it greatly shook Inoichi when he saw it for himself.

And there was no telling the involvements of the so called 'Guardian angel brought by the Shinigami.' Right now, though, his village was in danger and he was running out of ideas on what course of action he could order his troops to do.

"Hiruzen," Koharu called, "Team Lima just reported back. They found Kushina Uzumaki."

"Kushina?" It brought his attention away from the main conflict, and he stared down at his teammate's eyes. "Where?"

"They've brought her back here without incident," she replied. "From what I've heard from the idle talks of the other team members, they say she seemed . . . catatonic, I suppose."

"She was exposed to the malevolent chakra for too long," Homura said as he joined the two's conversation. "I don't think she'd be of any help at all."

"If ever," Koharu added. "Mental traumas can be worse than physical ones."

"I'll have a talk with her," Hiruzen said.

"No, you won't," Koharu rebuked. "We still have a fight to end, Hiruzen. The village and its ninjas need you to concentrate on the bigger picture."

"For me to understand the bigger picture, I need to understand what caused all this."

A new voice entered the conversation. "Understand the _root_ of the problem, I take it?"

Hiruzen looked to his left. "Danzou." He gave a nod when the crippled man bowed in respect. "Weren't you supposed to mobilize your troops?"

"I had," Danzou answered smoothly. "And then I thought you'd need some help thinking up a plan. My men are self-sufficient and can handle themselves well, be it in a team or independently. I'm just their teacher and guide."

Hiruzen said to Koharu, "Where's Kushina?"

"Hiruzen—"

"She's inside the adjacent building," Homura interjected, "first floor, the last door in the left corridor."

"Homura!" Koharu said.

"Hiruzen is the Hokage, Koharu, and we're his advisors. We don't order him around."

Hiruzen didn't stay to see what Koharu's reaction would be; he had already jumped off the rooftop from where they conversed and entered the specified building. He took a left and walked through the corridor with its doors all wide open. Inside them were makeshift cots for Tsunade's patients, most of their injuries relatively minor compared to the amount of blood shed when the Kyuubi first attacked this village. Whoever was able gave enough respect to their leader by bowing as he passed them; those who weren't offered him the Leaf salute (right fist knocking the left chest once). He didn't see Tsunade anywhere, although he had an idea of where she currently was.

Reaching the end of the long corridor, he panned his head to the left where the designated door stood, its brown varnished wood standing out on the corridor's light blue wallpaper. He went in front of the door, knocked twice before entering the room.

In that moment, everybody in Konoha felt the rampage of the Kyuubi's malevolent chakra. Eight tails were now out.

* * *

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." He formed the cross handseal and shouted, "Kage Bunshin no jutsu!"

"You know what you need to do?"

"Yes," he answered exasperatedly. "We've already been through this, Dad. Let's just hope it works."

"All right, on three." Minato breathed deeply. "One."

"Two," Naruto replied, right hand clutching a kunai, his clones doing the same.

"Three!"

And they were off.

Minato leaped towards the very center of the gate while his son ordered his clones to move into strategic points in the vast room, hoping to at least subdue the Kyuubi instead of merely fighting it to keep from getting out. The seals he had to graft were meticulously time-consuming, but he and Naruto were confident that the modifications the Yellow Flash had thought out and the changes Naruto had inputted were the best they could offer to prevent the beast from escaping. A new seal created from the efforts of two fuinjutsu specialists, father and son.

Minato pulled the old seal out of the gate and jumped off moments before the Kyuubi rammed the gate out of its hinges. Naruto and his clones soon entered the fray as they tried to overwhelm the beast with numbers, but like the first time he had fought the fox, having numbers was nothing more than a nuisance for it. Its giant tails swung left and right, its body dodging specifically placed Rasengan attacks which were meant to cripple the limbs. Naruto's clones were at the receiving end of a high body count attack, and their numbers dwindled in seconds that Naruto had to summon another batch of shadow clones to not only replace but also increase the initial amount of clones. He wasn't the least bit worried about overcrowding the room.

During their fight, the Yellow Flash was halfway finished in implementing the new seal into the mindscape, but he couldn't very well use it until the Kyuubi was pushed back into its prison with the gates firmly closed. And what was meant by 'implementing' and 'into the mindscape' was that he was drawing the new seal into his palm, and due to the urgent need for precision and a steady hand, he shouldn't be interrupted, otherwise the drawn seal would be ruined and he would have to redraw everything. After getting nearly hit by one of the Kyuubi's random tail swipes which shook him out of his deep concentration, Minato decided to move back a little more and redo from scratch. He prayed that Naruto could hold off a little longer.

Naruto, on the other hand, prayed that his father would finish drawing the seal before the Kyuubi had the chance to get the upper hand. This fight was draining him, not only in chakra but also in mind. He found it harder to concentrate, found it difficult to summon more chakra to fuel his trademark jutsu. And they just kept getting harder and harder as the fight dragged on. Now Naruto had always depended on his limitless stamina and chakra reserves to get him out of sticky situations, but something was quite odd today. He was experiencing exhaustion too early into the fight, as if the many years of him battling foes to his very limit and rising back up to challenge the next one were nothing more than lucid dreams.

He charged straight at the beast, a battle cry bursting from his lips, a giant Rasengan on his hand. His clones had followed his new tactic and mimicked their creator's actions. An assault of over a hundred Rasengan would have probably be overkill for some of Naruto's past opponents, but the Kyuubi was a demon fox, and foxes were known to be sly and deceitful. Naruto had unknowingly fallen into a trap of false security.

As if it had been rehearsed hundreds of times, the fox easily dodged and blocked every one of the Rasengan that was hurled towards it. And with a body that towered the blond fifty times over, what the fox had done was no easy feat. The fox also gave Naruto another subsequent surprise when its body was suddenly enveloped in a chakra cloak covered with dozens upon dozens of flame-like tentacles, their numbers multiplying and dividing like branches from a tree. And like a frog sticking out its tongue to grab its meal, the tentacles grabbed onto the closest clones and sucked them into the cloak. They did not poof from existence as Naruto expected, but disintegrated slowly, as if the inside of the cloak was fatally acidic.

The original Naruto and the surviving number of his clones avoided the tentacles as much as they could, with the original deeming a retreat was in order.

"BOSS!"

His clone's warning came too late as one of the tentacles slithered just behind the original and shoved him towards the Kyuubi. When his body shot into the cloak, it felt like splashing into a pool of mercury after a ten-foot drop. The pressure inside confined his movements. It hurt. His skin was tearing up on its own. He had shut his eyes the moment he felt contact with the cloak, and he kept them shut, lest he be introduced to the pain of getting his eyes seared and cauterized. His mouth opened up reflexively to let out a scream, the pain too great for his self-control to sustain, but instead it let in the acidic substance of the cloak. And the pain just worsened, intensified threefold. With his concentration destroyed by the onslaught of pain spreading at every nook and cranny of his body, inside and out, the remaining clones vanished, leaving only smoke trails of their limited existence.

The Kyuubi chuckled. "I got you," it stated mockingly. While Naruto had thought that the Kyuubi would leave him inside this cloak to disintegrate like the clones it had captured before him, it didn't come to that. The fox had a different plan in mind, it seemed; instead of having to await oblivion, knowing that he had failed not only his father but also his five-year-old counterpart, the Kyuubi left him inside its poisonous cloak long enough to exhaust most of his energy, grabbed him with one of his tails, and then threw him into the opened gates where the other Kyuubi (still two tails short) lay.

Naruto tried to get up, but pain still engulfed his very being, and he crashed back onto the watery ground. He at least shifted his body face-up so that he wouldn't drown, but it was tasking enough for him that he was seeing black spots in his vision. And there he laid, heart racing, lungs demanding more air, muscles in his limbs twitching every now and then as though they were reliving his suffering before. It hurt to move, hurt to even breathe. He knew he had died before, but it never felt like this.

_I guess the furball was too strong_, he thought. His eyes wandered on the sickly Nanabi, on the shadows flooding the walls and ceiling of the prison room, on the menacing presence of the Kyuubi closing in on his father, who was still in the middle of drawing the seals into his palm. _Not enough time. Damn it._

He wanted to get back into the fight. His will was indestructible, but if only the same could be said for his body. There were times that the latter could not catch up with the former. His will was endless; his body had limits. The gap was just too big for Naruto to do anything about, despite his presence inside the mindscape and his powers as a secondary god within it, because while inside the room where the Kyuubi and the prison resided, the limitless powers at his disposal were temporarily null.

But even when his body lay broken, he tried to get up. Pain was a constant companion for shinobi, be it in training or in war; pain was always the same. It showed progress, it showed sorrow, it showed the face of one's limit. But most of all, it showed that one was still alive.

He was able to get to his knees before something large landed onto his back. It wasn't heavy, but with Naruto's relatively weakened body, it and gravity pushed him back into the shallow water. Spitting out some of the liquid that got into his mouth, he looked over his shoulder and his cheek made contact with prickly orange-and-white stripes of fur.

His blood turned cold.

"Don't think . . ." the old fox growled, "that just because . . . I'm weak means . . . I'm harmless. Far from it, human.

"But," it took a deep breath through its nose, the suction creating mild ripples on the water, "it was good of you . . . to think so. That imbecilic youngster would've . . . seen through my act, otherwise."

Naruto cared more about helping his father than listening to the Nanabi's lengthy monologue. He tried getting up again.

"If you want to save everyone," the fox said, "you have to let me go."

Feeling indignant, Naruto replied, "Why should I? You're not exactly the poster boy for helping people in need."

"I'm not asking for freedom, human. I'm asking you . . ." Another deep breath. "To let me go."

His Kyuubi would've taken his words as an insult and gone on with its usual tirade of death threats, killings, and mad growls. But a situation never got serious enough for the proud fox to let the jibe slide and keep the conversation going. It left Naruto bewildered, but also less doubtful. And the bewilderment was essentially fuelled by the fox's declaration.

He showed more of his annoyance with this reply: "Is this one of those scenes where someone says something unexpected and easily taken the wrong way, and then elaborates it in length? Coz if it is, I don't have time for that shit."

"I won't go at length . . . no strength for it."

Minato had to halt his drawing to dodge the younger Kyuubi's swipe. It then morphed into a battle reminiscent of the time five years ago, minus the giant frog and the Flying Thunder God technique. The blond was dodging and counteracting through sheer speed and strength alone.

_I can't believe I'm saying this_, Naruto thought. "I'm listening."

The old fox gave a ghost of a smile—more of a grimace since it still looked to be in pain. "I'm stuck between the two realities."

"Tried to cling to me, hoping I'd stay alive somehow?" Naruto inquired without thinking.

"Your jutsu altered the seal . . . and bound me to you. I had . . . no choice, moron. If it is any consolation . . . I was prepared to die before _this_ occurred."

"But if you're bound to me, where were you when I first woke here?"

"A trick question. I don't know it as well. I'm not one to . . . think over things thoroughly. What happens, happens."

"Then how do we unbind you?" Then something clicked in Naruto's head. "Wait, what's going to happen to you if—and that's a big _if_—you were unbound?"

"It's different than release. As I said, I'm stuck between two realities . . . I can feel my two tails nearing this reality, and if that . . . were to happen, that youngster over there will absorb me."

"What?"

"I'm an embodiment of chakra, human." Deep breath. "Simple as that."

The younger Kyuubi readied its main blast attack, its tails remaining stationery to charge the chakra sphere forming in front of the fox's open mouth. Minato, knowing the intensity of that ball's destructive power, commenced an evasive maneuver. The Kyuubi attacked; the mindscape shook in its foundations.

"It will also . . . repair the damages on you," the Nanabi continued.

"What damages?"

"You've realized it, haven't you? Not only was my counterpart stronger than me, you also found yourself . . . feeling a lot weaker than before. And not just physically."

Shaken up that the old fox found out what he had been trying to hide, Naruto could only respond with a nod.

"It is because of the bond. If that youngster is absorbing me little by little . . ."

"Then that'd mean the bastard is absorbing a part of me, too," he finished. "Fuck. But how?"

"This seal is weaker than mine was. You understand now?"

"Yeah. What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. I only needed your agreement. I'll handle the rest."

The two beings, human and beast, stared at each other's eyes, a level of distrust and detestation still lingering between them. They may never fully understand one another, but they had a common goal and that was to see this mental to its end. Unfortunately, one of them had to be erased, removed from this reality.

Even though the fox was weak, it still had its conniving mind. It thought of tricking the human, saving itself from the damnation this plan would inevitably follow. It would be easy for the fox to do so. But somehow the fox just couldn't bring itself to, though it wasn't because of something as fake as human emotion (nothing more than words to describe something humans couldn't fully comprehend). It was probably more out of respect than anything else. He had to be given credit where it was due; Naruto had beaten the odds time and time again, and even when he should've been in his lowest moments, his will never cracked, never wavered. While he was still strong and able, the fox grew weak and handicapped. Whether wrath and envy coursed through its system as its tail wrapped around the blond or not was irrelevant; time was not on their side and the plan had to commence immediately.

The fox was never a being of words, but in this situation, it seemed appropriate. "Kick his ass for me."

The way the blond expressed utter bewilderment, which morphed into reluctant agreement, was almost priceless.

The plan commenced and with just a simple alteration on Naruto's soul, the bond between the former host and the former tailed beast was severed.

With a final flash of red energy breaching out of the prison, the Kyuubi of Naruto's old world now ceased to exist.

* * *

Outside, a red beam of energy shot through the sky. Nobody knew how long the beam stayed before dissipating, but the impact it laid onto the ninja world was there to stay. It was seen in all the neighboring countries, all the ninja villages, and all thought that it was a red pillar ascending to the throne of the gods.

* * *

Minato did his best to keep himself out of harm's way, but the Kyuubi seemed to have more dominance over this room than in any other. He had just gotten access to the other sections of the mindscape recently, but that short amount of time was enough for him to gauge the 'atmospheric' differences between sections. This room kept the Kyuubi for over five years, and it should be no surprise that the fox had labeled this place as its own den. The ambience, color, and environment of the room were dead giveaways.

He was literally fighting an enemy in its home base. And that was a _BIG_ disadvantage.

But he wasn't called the Yellow Flash for nothing. He did what he could to distract the fox so that he could afford time to settle down the nerves in his adrenaline-induced hands and finish the seal he was drawing on his palm. When he found that he didn't have time, then he was obliged to _make_ time. The longer this fight went on, the smaller the chances of repairing the seal and saving his only son's life. And Kushina . . .

He didn't want to cross to the other side knowing that he let his wife down. He caused plenty of grief onto her when he decided to sacrifice his life and seal the Kyuubi in their newborn son. Naruto's memories showed a lot of Kushina and her influence in his short life, but Minato was able to see something the innocent Naruto didn't. Kushina still had emotional wounds left over, but as the years passed it gradually healed. He mentally calculated that if life had gone smoothly until Naruto turned ten, she would've already moved on and accepted the gap he had left in her heart. But life didn't go smoothly, if Naruto's brushes with death were any indication. If their son were to die today . . . he dreaded to believe the possibility, but he knew his wife and he knew that she valued family more than any other. She had lost one family to war, created a new one with him, and had been left to pick up the pieces when it broke apart. She survived a plethora of losses up to this day, but having her son die would be the final straw. There would be no meaning in her life anymore.

He dodged another swipe from the fox's tails and widened the distance between them. What he didn't count on, however, was that the fox intended for this to happen, and it slowly began to charge some kind of projectile attack. A giant ball of chakra manifested itself in front of the fox's wide open mouth, demonic red and human blue intermingling but not creating a new mixed color. Minato had seen this attack before, in the older Naruto's memories during his one and only battle with the Kyuubi in the mindscape. The only method to escape such an attack would be finding cover and hope that it was enough to elude disintegration.

But before he could move away from the fox's firing range, a blinding flash of red light burst from beyond the gates of the prison, channeling fragments of demonic energy into the general area. While Minato feared that this burst was a sign that the other Kyuubi grew tired of dawdling and decided to join in on the action, the energy also amplified the already large-as-hell sphere of impending destruction. If foxes could grin while their mouths were open . . .

A small figure shot out from the darkness of the prison and collided with the Kyuubi's unprotected spine. This blind attack affected the fox's concentration on the charging chakra ball, which did not explode, as Minato thought, but dissipated its energy to its surroundings, like the scattering of shards from a shattered mirror. Minato released a nervous breath, more than glad that the danger had been dealt with before it reached critical.

The fox howled in pain and then turned around, its growling face expressing its unwillingness to accept that it was inflicted physical damage inside its domain. But the events proved to be true, and the fox could deny all it wanted, but that wouldn't defeat the new opponent in the fight. The fox tried to retaliate with a swipe of its tails. The emphasis of the sentence was _tried_, because the newcomer multiplied himself and ordered his clones to subdue the beast with swift efficiency.

If Minato had blinked, he might have missed it. Fortunately he didn't, but he was reeling from disbelief at the sudden change of the battle's advantageous side. The fox's tails, all nine of them, had been nailed more or less to the ground at the bottom of the shallow water by many strong arms and chakra-laced feet. He was still processing the development when Naruto shouted for him to finish the seal.

"I can't keep this up forever!"

Minato was curious as to where Naruto had come to attain such power, but the reddish aura engulfing his form in a subtle manner seemed to be the only hint he needed to produce a valid answer to his open question. As it was, he returned to the seal on his palm and meticulously completed the seal.

"Get away!"

He complied with the order right when the Kyuubi roared out its anger and indignation, throwing the army of Naruto clones left and right. Thrice he had to dodge them before the beast fixated its attention on the original troublemaker. Every one of the clones vanished, both those who were thrown but hadn't been destroyed and those who were still clinging to the fox like ticks. Naruto stood erect in front of the fox, whisker marks more prominent than before, as if they were newly formed scars, his eyes glowing red, the sclera around them coming across as an ominous yellow, though Minato could fault that to the ambient colors of the place.

"It's just you and me," Naruto said. "Let's finish this." He looked directly at Minato when he said that last one, and Minato quickly asserted the hidden message. The next phase of their plan was under way. What the blonds needed was an opportunity to move and exploit a weakness in the fox's defenses. That earlier surprise attack had been a stroke of luck; neither of them was about to chance their final attack with just that in their hands.

The fox, impatient as it was, made the first move and surprised both blonds when it spun 180 and rushed towards the Yellow Flash. This was without its own bit of advantage, as Naruto demonstrated when he had a clear view of the fox's unprotected back once again. With the power he currently had in his disposal, he channeled every ounce of it into his right hand, halting the flow of everything leaving and entering beyond the wrist. He lost all feeling to the hand as the aura around it expanded and darkened. He was aware of what his body manipulations would entail (he had an earful when Tsunade got wind of it), but essentially he was dead and, more or less, a soul stuck inside a mindscape, so the laws of physical reality didn't work the same way here. At least he hoped so.

He moved quick, forcing his legs to push him up as far as they could, and landed on the fox's back. He was about to condense the bottled up energy into something more practical and damaging, but he was blinded by an onslaught of three, maybe four, tails crushing him from every which way. It sounded comical, but Naruto could attest to the pain that came along with it. Fortunately he saved the energy from releasing by staying conscious and keeping up with the needed concentration. He got out of there before the tails could introduce an encore performance.

Propelling himself towards the ceiling, he used normal chakra to stick to it and then ran in a random direction. The fox was not about to let him go when he was close to being beaten, so it willed for its tails to lengthen, transferring large amounts of demonic energy to the tips before launching them to the ceiling like haymakers equipped with brass knuckles. Naruto made use of his training and experience in the war to dodge the tails as they pierced through the ceiling, shattering bricks and mortar, dispersing smoke in their wake. And for every tail that hit the ceiling, sending vibrations that almost shook Naruto's feet off the surface, another would come and try to kill him. They came in rapid succession, and he was gradually losing ground (or ceiling) to run on. With no other alternative, he leaped off the surface mere seconds before the latest spear-like tail could succeed in plunging the blond into the waiting arms of death. He made it halfway from the ceiling to the watery ground before a lone tail made a swipe from his blind spot and shot him towards the wall. Naruto was dazed from the impact, but he still held onto the power in his hand. If he let that go, then they were royally screwed. He saw the other tails coming at him, and he kicked off the crater.

Landing on the water surface prevented a big splash, but the falling tail prevented nothing for the imagination. What made it worse was that Naruto didn't have time to dodge it, so he was left to feel the tremendous downward force pushing him to the shallow waters and have his face meet with the floor at the bottom. He couldn't breathe, and as much as he tried to get the tail off of his back, he couldn't and it was increasing his need for air.

_How ironic that a dead man would need to breathe_, he thought sardonically before he lost the strength to fight. His concentration waned, and the energy he stored up in his hand began to disperse. Naruto couldn't believe that this would be the end for him. They were so close to resealing the Kyuubi, and this had to happen. When the blackness from his closed eyes began to turn white, the tail's force disappeared. He heard a muffled roar of pain while his collar was pulled back, bringing his face to the surface.

Not wanting to delay any further, Naruto inhaled mouthfuls of air after spitting out the water that got into his mouth and nose. That was too close for comfort. He really thought he'd die a second time.

"This isn't over yet, Naruto."

"Yeah," he said to his father, "not by a long shot." He was thankful that the stored energy didn't disperse all at once; there was still some left, and it was still enough to execute what he had in mind. "We're gonna have to rethink our strategy. I can't get close enough to the fox before it throws me around like a ragdoll."

"It's aware of what you're doing, and taking precautions to prevent it."

"Ideas?"

"Just one. Look at the ceiling."

Naruto complied, but saw only the Kyuubi's decorations of assorted craters. He squinted his eyes. "Ah, I see."

"Got the plan?"

Naruto nodded.

"Good. First thing's diversion. I'm going for five. Get ready for the sixth one."

Naruto nodded again.

"On three. One."

"Two."

"Three!" they said together before Minato disappeared in a yellow flash.

He appeared in front of the Kyuubi, three-pronged kunai in hand, and threw it at the fox's side. The fox raised one clawed hand and swiped it at Minato, but he disappeared in a yellow flash once more and reappeared beside the Kyuubi. He charged up a Rasengan in one hand, the other holding another three-pronged kunai.

As Minato tried to diverse the Kyuubi's attention, Naruto was already charging a Rasengan of his own. But this one was more than it appeared. Due to his failed attempt of controlling the Kyuubi's chakra years ago, he wasn't able to complete Killer Bee's jinchuuriki training, thus unable to use most of the powerful techniques the Kumo nin and his bijuu had come up with together. But what he had in his hand was the pure energy of the Kyuubi from his old reality, and though it was temporary and possibly volatile, he would use it for the best attack he could make.

The Bijuudama (_**tr.**_ "Tailed Beast Ball").

To be on the safe side, he summoned three clones to help him form the deadly sphere. He gathered the proper amount of chakra from his system to mingle with the dark taint of the demonic chakra in his hand. They didn't mix, but the power was amplifying well enough. But this was Naruto's first attempt at forming the Bijuudama, although he had seen Bee use it many times during the war. He imagined himself dangling on a tripwire, with nothing to balance him but his own arms. There were times when the wind picked up and wobbled the wire, and he had to dexterously regain balance before he could fall. It was a dangerous position for him now that the gentle winds had turned into a hurricane. Naruto had to summon an additional two clones to stabilize the deformation of the sphere.

"It was easier when Bee did it," Naruto muttered, but kept at it. He saw his Dad flash into another location. "That's three." By now, he and his clones were crowded in a circle with the unstable Bijuudama glowing in the middle.

Minato kept at the distraction, hoping that the fox wouldn't notice the sudden flux of demonic chakra concentrated on the growing sphere, but he believed that was only wishful thinking. He flashed two more times before he peered over at his son. The initial plan had been to just weaken the beast so that it wouldn't put up a challenging fight when it was time to imprint the new seal. With the way things had escalated since they opened those gates, he prayed that this would be the final attack. The fight took too long for his comfort, burning through three-quarters of his chakra reservoir already—and they were burning much quicker now that he employed the Hiraishin no jutsu into the fight—and his actual son might not be able to survive much more from the demonic taint. This had to end now.

Naruto dispersed his clones when he finally got the hang of the Bijuudama. The final impression of the massive ball of chakra was magnificent and radiated with power that his hand quaked from just keeping it in his palm. All he had to now do was wait for the sixth flash. And when it occurred, he was suddenly embraced from behind by his father.

"Here we go," he said before both of them disappeared in a yellow flash.

And reappeared below the ceiling, right on top of the Kyuubi. Without warning—it wasn't needed—Minato threw Naruto straight at the Kyuubi, the Bijuudama right in front.

The original use of the Bijuudama was for it to be a long-range projectile made out of compressed chakra, but because this was difficult to control as it was and because it was Naruto's first time using it practically, 'shooting' it was not an option. Neither was throwing it like the Rasenshuriken. Naruto had to resort to the old-fashioned Rasengan way.

The Bijuudama hit its mark, plunging the demon fox to the floor, shockwaves pushing the shallow water surrounding the beast off in a three-yard radius. The fox howled in pain and its screams grew louder once the Bijuudama began tearing the fox's spine like a grinder on flesh. Warm blood burst from the gaping wound, and it got all over Naruto. Once every bit of the Bijuudama had been used up and the fox could no longer stand up due to the amount of pain it was in, he hopped off its back and went to the face of the demon, neither grinning nor gloating.

He might have had the right to gloat since he was finally able to put the furball into submission, but he didn't feel like gloating or being elated at the prospect of winning. No, he was more concerned about the effectiveness of the seal and his counterpart's current condition. And all of this would have been avoided if the Kyuubi had not tried to get out.

_No_, he thought as his father approached him, _I shouldn't blame it all on the fox. I am as much to blame for altering the seal. If I hadn't done that, then this could've been avoided. But if I _hadn't_ done that, then what exactly would it entail for Red in the future?_ He didn't have an answer for that; the future would be left uncertain.

"This is the end, Kyuubi," Minato said, palm facing towards the beast. "I'm sending you back to the prison from which you crawled out."

"Damn you"—the fox tried to show that it was far from losing, but after a few feet hoisting itself up, it sank back down with another roar of agony, giving both blonds a strong gale of stinky fox breath that billowed their hair and clothes—"you monkey!"

"Its breath smells worse than a sewer," Naruto said through pinched nostrils.

Minato agreed.

The Kyuubi didn't fight back when Minato placed his palm on its forehead, thereby transferring the seal drawn on his palm to its new place. There were no theatrics or great special effects to gesture the success of the seal's integration. The Kyuubi only had to melt into a red-orangey muck that floated on the water's surface. And it slowly streamed back into the darkness of the prison as both blonds watched the sight without a word. When the last drop of the muck reached the borderline of the gates, Minato formed a one-handed Ram seal and uttered, "Seal."

The Kyuubi was now resealed.

* * *

"Ugh, wha—?"

Naruto awoke with a splitting headache, his clothes all wet from lying on the shallow waters of the Prison Room. From within the darkness of the closed prison decorated with an assortment of paper tags with runic symbols written on them, two red eyes watched his movements with barely restrained fury that channeled through its glare. He was used to the usual hate coming from the fox from his old reality, so he wasn't fazed. His headache, however . . .

"How much did I drink last night?"

"You didn't drink at all," Rambo answered from his left. "You've been asleep for approximately three days, by the way."

Naruto halted the nursing of his forehead as his mind digested the news. "Three days? _Three_ days? What the heck happened?" The last thing he remembered was his father resealing the Kyuubi and then saying some final words before his chakra reservoir completely ran out. Naruto saw him disappear, reminiscent of what occurred in his old reality, slightly wishing that his counterpart had been there to see Minato off with him. But after that? It became a blank.

"The new seal taking effect," Rambo said. "_That's_ what happened, man." He moved his hoof to Naruto's shoulder, and they were then transported back into the apartment.

"What?" Naruto asked as he sauntered towards the couch and slumped onto it. He realized too late that with his clothes wet, he also made the couch wet. And sitting down with water practically in your butt crack was downright uncomfortable.

"When that seal your father made went into full work mode, the whole mindscape just went haywire all of a sudden. It took me a while to get myself out of the apartment and get to you. You'd probably stay in that coma for another week if I hadn't."

"Why?" Then his nose picked up a pungent smell on his collar. He pulled the collar, sniffed it twice, and reeled his face away as if he had been slapped. It seemed he found the source of his headache. "You. Fuckin'. _Peed on me_!"

"It was the only way to wake you up. I don't have opposable thumbs or even smelling salts in hand."

"Another week in a coma sounds better than this," he muttered. He stood up, stripped off his shirt, and threw it away. He could just conjure a new one later—lemon-scented, of course. He was going to need a shower after this talk. "I hope the outside world is doing better than in here."

"Oh, it has," the sheep replied. "After the seal worked, Aka-Junko returned to normal, minus clothes and most of his hair. He was treated in Konoha Hospital and kept on twenty-four hour surveillance by ANBU. Of course, Aka-Junko was going in and out of consciousness, so I only have glimpses and vague references of his current condition and the state of affairs of the village."

"Anything else?"

"Emi-san"—that was Rambo's nickname for Kushina—"was admitted in the mental ward."

"What? You're kidding."

"I wish. Apparently seeing your supposed death was the last straw for her. She just snapped. Nothing else I can report on that, though."

"What about the villagers? Will there be retaliations to what this shit-storm did?"

"Not that I know of, truthfully. The ANBU might have been able to keep the room secure, but I haven't heard any shouts or curses from outside."

He sighed and continued rubbing his aching head. "What an ordeal."

"There is something else I should mention."

"More bad news?" Naruto growled. "Can it wait, at least until my head stops feeling like it's been through a sewing machine?"

"Yes, it can," the sheep replied, "but I don't want to wait for your scream of indignation when you find out for yourself. You should take a look at yourself in the mirror, man. You'll understand after you see it."

He cocked an eyebrow but went to the bathroom. Once he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he _did_ scream out of indignation.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

* * *

"How's Naruto-kun?"

"In perfect health, Hokage-sama. His healing factor has improved quite significantly. What would've taken months—maybe even years—of healing took less than a week. There was no need for skin grafting; his skin just regrew itself, despite the presence of many third-degree burns."

"You seem to be in utter disbelief, Itou-sensei," Hiruzen remarked. His eyes never left the sleeping form of Naruto Uzumaki, bandaged from head to toe, including the eyes. When he was first admitted into the hospital, he was more of a bloody mess than when he had been the week before. And just like before, the kid had pulled through, basically knocking—_bashing_ was more like it—on Death's door, taunting the deity to come and catch him, and returning to the world of the living. The boy was either unbelievably lucky to survive two fatal incidents or unlucky to be subjected to such pain and resentment at a very young age.

Yusuke Itou, one of Konoha Hospital's professional doctors, pushed up his glasses to the bridge of his nose. "I have the right to, sir. If it were anyone else, they would've been DOA. Uzumaki-kun defies the physical limits of the human body that I wonder if his survival is due to an intervention from Kami-sama."

"It may very well be, doctor," the wizened leader said. "Five years old, experienced sufferings that lesser men would have died from, and his heart still beats."

Itou nodded. "It's time to remove the bandages." He gestured the nurse beside him to accompany him. "Start with the head," he ordered.

Though it sounded strange, Hiruzen was here to watch the 'unveiling.' Tsunade had informed days before that there was an increased activity of chakra flowing into Naruto's head. She first disregarded it as an effect of his healing factor because it was his face that was the most damaged. Nobody would be surprised if Naruto's face had deformed in one way or another after the bandages were off. But just this morning, the chakra flow increased, as if it were working overtime. And just when Tsunade had been about to report this, it returned to normal. A diagnostic jutsu later, and she deemed the face bandage safe to remove.

Hiruzen received the reports and was intrigued of the sequence of events. His gut feeling called for him to be present when it was time to remove the bandages. Unfortunately, Tsunade or Jiraiya couldn't be there to witness this with him, and he didn't want to delay this any more than he had to. Jiraiya was out of the village to check on his spy networks, and Tsunade had an appointment with Kushina. Poor girl was still unresponsive to anything other than smiling at pictures of her son and husband.

_Maybe when Naruto-kun wakes up, she'll come back to us_, he thought hopefully.

The nurse had already started removing the top part of the bandages. And even from where Hiruzen stood he could tell something was wrong. The nurse stopped rolling the bandages off when she saw a mere glimpse of the 'unveiling.' She eyed the doctor, who looked just as stunned as she was, and then the village leader.

"Continue," Hiruzen said as he inched closer to the hospital bed. He said to Itou, "What do you make of this?"

"I-I-I don't know, sir. I'm not that experienced with ninja in my work, but something tells me that this isn't normal, sir."

"Agreed," he said gravely.

When the bandages on Naruto's head were completely off, the three adults in the room could only gape at his sleeping face. Hiruzen was more shocked than the other two.

"Check his eyes," he ordered. "What color are they?" He had been around long enough to see the faces of the older generation when they were children, and what he was staring at right now was—

"They're blue, sir," Itou whispered. "Blue."

Spiky blond hair, cerulean blue eyes. It was as if looking into the past, looking into the face of the child that would one day become his successor for the role of Hokage. He was seeing a ghost, but the illusion was destroyed by the presence of the whisker marks on both his cheeks. He had to close his eyes, breathe deeply, and open them again. This was not what he was expecting.

Naruto had now become _too much_ like his father.

* * *

"My hair!"

"At least it's no longer spiky."

"It's red! _Red_!"

"Don't forget your eyes. They've changed too."

"What the fuck happened? What the fuck happened?" He combed his crimson red hair with both hands, as if wanting to be sure that this was not an illusion.

The mirror and the few strands he pulled out of his head didn't lie. This was no illusion. Tamed red hair, cool gray eyes. His reflection was no doubt an adult version of Aka-Naruto.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

Who here shat bricks when they read the mindfuck?

Anyway, for my thoughts on Fuinijutsu, I believe it is similar to computer programming. They are created in their own languages and can only do what they're made to do if they're supplied with enough codes—_sophisticated_ codes—to help them run. I'm no computer engineer, but I'm knowledgeable enough to ascertain the required steps when creating a program, which helped set up a better understanding of what I'm trying to convey for fuinjutsu. And while some people will disagree wholeheartedly to my thoughts, that's their opinion. I got my own.


	9. Pain Is Always Protecting You

Date written: 28/01/11 – 14/03/11

Posted on FanFiction: 27/03/11

A/N: I did a Da Vinci, I admit it. It's just so hard having the time to write, more so when I have to start getting into the zone before I even _think_ of writing the next chapter. It's been a busy few months for me—just take a look at how long it took me to write this chapter.

And in case anyone feel as if they should know it from somewhere, I got the chapter title from my favorite Shippuden theme song, _Sign_, by FLOW.

It's been a long time coming. Enjoy, everyone.

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 9 ––**

**Pain is Always Protecting You**

The Kyuubi's rumored second coming took the gossip scene by storm just a day after the whole event. And right next to the gossip scene was the group of intelligence gatherers, picking out each and every form of the same story so as to remove the superficial to the cold, hard facts of the event. But there were elements that had been left out that it would take inquiring to the village in question to have the full story. As it stood, nobody was actually hurt when the event occurred, but that was only in the physical sense. Mental injuries, however, were another matter entirely. When news this hot spread throughout the continent, the other ninja villages took it like the usual intel they pick up from time to time, and a few were also hoping that this was the edge they needed to render Konoha even weaker. Every ninja village knew of the Kyuubi's attack five years prior, which devastated not only Konoha's superior forces but also its economy. Now five years after Konoha had slowly regained its former glory, the Kyuubi returned with vengeance, therefore it should not come as a surprise that Konoha was weakened once more.

That didn't happen.

Yes, the Kyuubi devastated Konoha. Yes, it terrorized the villagers (though not in the sense outsiders would think). But the only property damage it had done was demolishing three or four inconsequential buildings not even reaching eight stories. The fight barely even started when it ended prematurely, courtesy of a mindscape battle that no one would ever know about. And the ninja forces? There were a total of eighteen cases of intolerance of the Kyuubi's malevolent presence, a pure mental problem. The only bloodsheds were the death of an Uchiha officer in the market (the one who was caught in the explosion along with Aka-Naruto), the injuries from getting hit by a Kyuubi tail or building debris, and a child being admitted to the hospital in critical condition.

That child had been Naruto. I refer to that child as 'had been' because with the current predicament, no one was sure whether it was still Naruto or not. The Naruto Uzumaki they knew had red hair and dark gray eyes, both traits that cemented his inclusion in the nearly extinct Uzumaki clan, seeing that to the ninja world, the clan was known for its redheaded members and for being direct descendants of the famed Rikudou Sennin, wielder of the Rinnegan, the dojutsu with a gray-colored motif. But the new Naruto Uzumaki had sun-kissed blond hair and cerulean blue eyes.

It left Hiruzen Sarutobi in a very compromising position while opening up a window of opportunity for him to exploit. In the aftermath of the Second Coming—as it would slowly be referred to in time—the Konoha Council and Clan leaders were summoned by the Fire daimyo to settle the pandemonium that came along with the supposed peace. A naïve person would've thought that the Kyuubi's disappearance and the safety of Konoha villagers were signals of the bright and shining sky after a disastrous typhoon that thrashed the land. It didn't work that way. There _was_ a radiant sunshine after the storm, but the people still had to come out of their shelters and pick up the pieces of their broken homes.

When there was a cause, there would undoubtedly be an effect. The villagers needed a scapegoat and most agreed that it was because of Naruto. They also accounted Mizuki part of the blame, but he was more or less the one who 'opened' their eyes to the truth. What if someone else tried to kill Naruto? What if Konoha's enemies used him as the instrument of their doom? While they did not actually blame Naruto for the damages and for holding the Kyuubi, they were more wary of him than ever before.

Naruto was a ticking time bomb. And there was no telling if the seals would remain as stable as they were now. Jiraiya had assured that the seals were working much more efficiently than before, but how did that come about? How was it possible? The paranoid ones thought of it as a ploy to lower their guards around Naruto, and if he were to succeed then BAM! here comes the _Third_ Coming. The theory was taken into consideration during the meeting, but it was ignored by the majority.

Hiruzen really wished that he had brought some sake with him; the meeting with the daimyo was escalating into dangerous territory. Not for him, but for Naruto. And his hands were undoubtedly tied. On one hand, he could speak up for Naruto's safety, pushing off the threats and political backlash this decision would surely bring about, and put the village's ire on to him and his family. A revolt would occur, pandemonium that would result in making the village defenseless to its enemies. On the other hand, however, there was a more tempting offer, where he kept quiet and let the matter proceed to Naruto's banishment or imprisonment or execution. There would be no political backlash, no civil riot, no defenselessness of Konoha. The fate of one boy against the fate of the village and its inhabitants.

A lesser man would've chosen the latter option, but surprisingly Hiruzen chose neither. He was known in his time as the man who took the unprecedented path. And in this case, he took the third choice, that window of opportunity he discovered. Naruto's new appearance could be used to this advantage. The only people who knew of Naruto's metamorphosis were him, the doctor and nurse assigned to Naruto, Tsunade, and Jiraiya. As far as anybody else, they would be expecting the same redheaded chibi-Uzumaki. It would be much easier to forge Naruto a new identity and backstory, and set about forming a clean slate for his future. No more prejudice. No more stares. No more hatred. To the masses, they would believe the tale of Naruto's death.

But this idea did not come without its flaws and risks. Hiruzen would have to meet a few acquaintances who live their lives inside this shadier business he was plotting. Naruto would need the whole package: medical records, birth certificate, citizen registration, all forged. There was also the matter of the whisker marks—they were a dead giveaway—and his likeness of the late Yondaime Hokage. Blond-haired villagers are a rarity inside Konoha; Hiruzen could even count them with just two hands. This matter would require cleverer planning. Jiraiya's and Tsunade's input wouldn't hurt. Naruto was family to them, too.

Family . . .

_That's it!_

He created no outward action for his "Eureka!" moment; causing a scene while in the middle of an important meeting would send disapproving signals to everyone present. He'd need the political backup to make everything smooth sailing if what he had in mind flourished.

Right now, though, Hiruzen should alleviate the situation concerning the restless agitation of the public. Konoha would be in tough times for the next week or so.

* * *

While Hiruzen was busying himself in preparing the stage for whatever he had planned, the Naruto inside the mindscape was in the middle of grudgingly accepting his new look. The hair, he could understand, because he had always wondered what he'd look like if he had his mother's straight, red hair. The eyes, however . . . they were a harder thing to get used to. Whenever he woke up in the morning, he always stared into a pair of cerulean blue orbs when he faced his bathroom mirror. Even in this new 'life' that habit never ceased. Having to start looking into ash gray orbs instead would take a lot of getting used to, especially if, in his half-asleep state, he started punching the mirror because he thought his reflection was an intruder.

And it may very well be described an intruder, because it was intruding on Naruto's identity. Changing into this would be like he had been subjected with a permanent Henge no jutsu (_**tr.**_ "Transformation technique"). He was at a loss on what to do, except, of course, to accept it and make the most of the situation.

His thoughts then moved to Aka-Naruto. Hoping that the kid (would he be called Kiiro-Naruto now?) was unaffected by the metamorphosis was no doubt futile. This could only have occurred because of the seal and his unexpected presence inside this mindscape. He had no idea if his father had anything to do with this, seeing that the guy already left for the afterlife.

. . . wait, his soul was eaten by the shinigami.

"I don't see what's so bad about it," Rambo said earnestly, prompting a questioning look from the redheaded Naruto. "When you use your Oiroke no jutsu (_**tr.**_ "Sexy technique"), you'd probably end up looking like your mom with two side-ponytails."

"And how did that old jutsu got involved in this?"

"Similarities, I guess. You changed appearance from an unknown side effect. You change gender from bastardizing the Henge no jutsu."

That got Naruto thinking. Essentially he was a god inside this mindscape, so maybe he could revert back into his old form just by willing it. He once transformed into his father when Inoichi came to visit, so this should work as well.

Naruto formed the necessary handseal for the basic ninjutsu and shouted, "Henge!" A puff of smoke erupted from the base of his feet, rising up till it covered him whole. "Did it work?"

Rambo waited for the smoke to fade before giving his honest answer: "No."

Here was red hair, gray eyes, and three whisker marks. Down below was a completely yellow jacket instead of the orange and black color motif. Further down was a pair of cerulean blue jeans instead of the orange track pants that were meant to match with the jacket. Even his black sandals were changed into blue, like his old pair when he was a student and a greenhorn.

"Areh?"

"The new seal must've tampered a lot more than you thought, Junko."

Another puff of smoke burst out, and Naruto's clothes reverted back to their normal colors. "That's weird. I was sure I willed for a hair and eye color change . . ."

"Doing it again would give you the same results," Rambo replied.

"It must've been a fluke. I'll try it again."

"Hey, man, I'm speaking here."

The sheep's words were ignored. "Henge!" Cue the smoke. Naruto was now sporting a pure blue jacket and bright yellow pants. It didn't look good on him.

"I'm not giving up yet," Naruto said. "Henge!" This time, only his jacket had changed. The left side was blue, and the other side was yellow. And again, his hair and eyes remained unchanged. "Henge! Henge! Henge!"

He kept on trying and trying, changing and changing, until his voice turned hoarse from the constant shouting. No matter how much he tried, the transformations proved worthless because his physical features never once returned to his old self.

"I don't get it," Naruto complained. "There's got to be a way."

"As much as I like seeing you struggle until you're at your last leg, your constant use of that jutsu is accumulating a lot of smoke. Bad for our health."

"It's only chakra smoke. It's harmless," Naruto said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"It's only a hair and eye color change. It's harmless," Rambo shot back.

It took every fiber of Naruto's patience not to strangle the sheep then and there.

* * *

"How is she?"

"The same as always." Tsunade flipped to the second page of the clipboard she was holding and perused it. "Her vitals are okay, so nothing's amiss. The problem is up here." She tapped her forehead.

Inoichi sighed through his nose, hands in his pockets. "Diagnosis?"

"There's no actual term for this illness, seeing that it's rare even for survivors of bijuu attacks."

"How so?"

"The way her brainwave patterns get stimulated in sporadic moments and how she just keeps on staring at that photograph every waking hour, I think it might be too late for us to save Kushina."

Inoichi didn't reply.

"We could've conducted a Mind Scan—I'm sure you've already thought of this, Yamanaka-san—but the thing is, I don't think Kushina's mind can take any more stress at the moment. You are, of course, aware of what will happen when a Mind-walker enters when the victim is in the worst state of mind."

Inoichi nodded reluctantly, his gaze solely on the glass window, where on the other side, a woman with long crimson hair sat on a hospital bed, a serene smile on her face as she stared at the picture frame in her hands.

"She's been through a lot; it was only a matter of time before she snapped. She's been traumatized too many times."

"I can't even begin to understand the pain Uzumaki-san went through," he said. He then thought of his daughter and how he would feel if she had died during the Second Coming. He reacted by clenching his hands. Still, how one felt in a hypothetical situation was different from how one felt in a real situation. The pain, Inoichi knew, would be a lot worse, a lot more profound and potent.

"The loss of her village, the loss of her clan, the loss of her old friends and family. Kushina acted strong when she had been young, but even I can see the cracks forming in her spirit. If not for Minato, she would've never coped with it so well. And now . . ."

"Now with Minato dead, and her believing Naruto dead, she finally lost the ability to cope."

"Yes." Tsunade looked down and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had been running on adrenaline and caffeine for the past five days, and not even makeup or genjutsu could hide that she was on her last leg. But there was still much work to do; she couldn't afford to rest right now.

"But if Naruto—"

"Naruto is still in ICU," she retorted crisply. There was something about her tone that Inoichi didn't understand, as if she didn't want mother and son to reunite. At least not yet. "It's out of the question."

Inoichi sighed through his nose once more. "Then what are we to do?"

"The only thing we _can_ do is probably the hardest step anybody outside these hospital rooms has to do: wait . . . and hope."

Ignoring everything that was around her, Kushina rubbed her fingers on the glass of the picture, tracing the faces of the people she lost.

"And hope," Inoichi repeated.

* * *

While news spread fast between the hidden villages, it would take a long while before people living in remote villages could catch a whiff of them. Even with such a troubling predicament, despite already being resolved, wasn't spared from temporary obscurity to the isolated masses. It was just the way how this world worked. If it weren't so urgent, then ninjas who were stationed in a remote outpost might be lagging a month or two behind in either the gossip loop or the obituary section.

The Kuro Quarry is one prime example of an outpost founded far, far away from known civilization and even its home village, Konohagakure. Surrounded by tall, thick trees and heavy-duty shrubbery, the outpost was as isolated as anyone could be, despite it being a humongous hole in the ground that only a blind man could miss. So here was the question that had to be asked: Why make a quarry so far away from Konoha?

Most would answer it was for the minerals, which were abundant in this region, but that was an elusive answer with a well hidden lie. The Kuro Quarry is just one of three quarries located within the country, and the other two couldn't even compare in distance with Kuro in the gap between it and Konoha even when they combine their respective distances. Rocks and minerals were essential not only for trade but also for construction and fortification if there were ever another Shinobi World War. But the biggest disadvantage for stationing a quarry very far from civilization _and_ the home village would have to be transportation. And the workers transport them in bulk rather than stone by stone. The investment to transportation alone was out of the question. So the question had to be asked again: Why so far away from Konoha?

Simple. The quarry was a front. That part of the region was not rich with demanded rocks and minerals, but Konoha made sure to keep the official logbooks saying that it was reeling in a small but steady supply. The needed secrecy for all this—it being isolated was more of a coincidence than on purpose—was due to what the real digging was about. Most people in Fire Country had already heard of the rumors going about, that the diggers were finding ruins of an ancient civilization buried beneath all the earth and rock, which explained why there was a sudden inclusion of archaeologists in the digs. But the majority disregarded them as nothing more than silly rumors; if their government had something to hide, then they would've been more secretive about it. The quarry was, after all, owned by a ninja village. Discretion was needed, if not necessary. These people like to think that the body that governs and protects them was invincible.

But it wasn't as simple as that. In recent years, the excavations undergone by the diggers and archaeologists alike started to go deeper and deeper until they reach the bedrock, although that was only in the center of the quarry. Sights of ruins were becoming rarer, and keeping all of this under wraps was taking its toll. Konoha and the government might have the financial backing—and still have plenty left to spare for other matters—they somehow made a mistake in choosing the leader for this little project. A razor sharp knife is next to useless if it is wielded by an incompetent assassin.

In today's society, the demand for ancient artifacts originating from a time way beyond the oldest history books had tripled from last year. There was no actual experiment to the sudden interest, but with what the nobles wanted, the ones who wish to please—and get a nice monetary bonus for their troubles—would give. This was nothing new.

The Kuro Quarry and its occupiers were very much low key, staying well away from the radar as best they could. There were the usual bandit attacks but nothing that the usual ninja security couldn't handle. It seemed relatively mundane despite its secrecy, and it might have stayed mundane if not for the sudden breakthrough which was found two weeks before the Second Coming.

No one was told of this, not even the Hokage. The leader of the excavation crew, Saki Ichinose, didn't want this discovery to reach too many ears, so she informed only the daimyo and requested a team of five jounins for help, explaining nothing until the team got there. She doubted that the Sandaime would allow his men to take this mission with such little information on hand, but she had the daimyo's backing on this, so that left Sarutobi with little to no choice. Secrets were secrets, and in the Kuro Quarry they must stay in the dark no matter what.

* * *

Shizune liked to think that she had a good grasp of the situation she and her team found themselves in. That didn't stop the migraine from escalating to very painful levels, though. A week into her job at the quarry seemed like she was waiting for a time bomb to blow up right in front of her face, and the worst thing about it all was that she could do nothing to defuse it or get out of the blast radius when the timer inevitably reaches zero. Her team verbally spoke similar sentiments and misgivings to what their mission entailed, but a mission was a mission and Konoha had instilled to every one of its shinobi that a job started _must_ be finished.

_Now I see why it was determined B-rank when it's more of an S-rank_, she thought scathingly as she sat on her cot inside the room she had been checked-in for the past week. _The one loophole in the system and these bastards capitalized on it. This isn't exactly how I pictured my quasi-vacation to be like._

The mission ranking system went through many revisions ever since it was first created by the Shodai Hokage. There were missions that require a more specific description for it to be ranked accordingly; a lot of ninjas died in the line of service due to this system's rough categorizing, but at least they learned from their mistakes and bettered the ranks. It would seem, however, that the system might have to be revised again pretty soon. B-rank missions include the security and guarding missions, and these come frequently from the Kuro Quarry, so nobody would be suspicious about it. But the odd thing about the latest request was the lack of information given to the Hokage. The mysterious rumors circling about were bad enough; it didn't bode well for either Shizune and her team or the Hokage about this. Nevertheless she took the mission as head jounin of the team, the rest smiling their approval after she was handed the scroll. That smile turned to assorted expressions of the same feeling after learning more of their mission: indignation.

Once they arrived in the quarry and ushered into the tent of Saki Ichinose, famed archaeologist and unofficial leader of the digging crew, the façade was removed. Ichinose told them everything they needed to know about what they were guarding, and while most of Shizune's team openly complained that such a task was unthinkable, they were otherwise left with no choice but to comply. It wasn't about the old Konoha oath ("A job started _must_ be finished"), but more on the consequences if Shizune and her team were to refuse and then leave. The Fire daimyo invested tens of thousands of ryou for this excavation and its secrecy; he made it perfectly clear that anyone found squealing to the outside will face nothing short of hell. By inviting the five-man jounin team to Ichinose's tent and telling them staggering amounts of classified information, the archaeologist had knowingly endangered their lives.

Guarding a person, Shizune could live with that. However, if Shizune and her team were supposed to guard a handful of diggers who were frankly going on a suicide job, annoyance might as well be an understatement for the stress these diggers were putting the ninjas through. It was all for a good cause, Ichinose might have assured, but she didn't see just how much risk this excavation could bring. The extent of the information she gave them was too much for one sitting, more so when parts of it came close to breaching the boundaries of believability. Despite that, Shizune was known to be an "intel sponge," a nickname her former mentor, Tsunade Senju, came up with. Dictate a boring and lengthy essay to her that could last for twenty minutes nonstop, she'd be reciting it back, complete with the first speaker's accents and emphases. It wasn't photographic memory, since that kind of memorization centered more on the visual aspects of recalling. Her special ability was more on sound and information relayed verbally. Tsunade Senju spent more time reciting passages on textbooks than let her apprentice study on her own, not when such a unique but powerful gift remained untapped.

Shizune didn't know if Ichinose knew about this ability, but she was at least thankful that the woman with the ponytailed brown hair was telling them rather than making them read their notes. Information was vital, especially in Shizune's line of work. The information Ichinose shared to them, however, put more of a sense of unease than assurance. It seemed like alien territory for Shizune, who was used to information giving her and her team an edge to subsequent obstacles and battles.

"Shizune-san."

Her attention shifted to the open door of her room and the man standing beside it. "Akira-kun," she said, "what is it?"

He lifted the hand not holding the doorknob and stuck out his thumb, pointing to something over his shoulder. "Ichinose-san just gave the signal. We're moving out."

Shizune sighed through her nose, the only reaction she gave to the message, and stood up from her cot. Adjusting her jounin vest and rolling back the sleeves of her shirt, she gave a nod to her subordinate and together they exited the barracks.

For the past week, her team was more or less in standby mode, keeping tabs on the overall wellbeing of the diggers while simultaneously sensing anything . . . malevolent in the air. Whatever they were supposed to find was given just one description—volatile. While Shizune might not have any inkling as to what this could mean or what kind of object could actually be described as such, the migraine she was having just worsened when she and Akira arrived at the dig site, where everyone in the quarry was abandoning their posts to help carry out the debris blocking the entrance to a place where no one had seen for thousands of years. For right under the quarry, scribers of old maps and documents discovered the existence of an underground complex housing what _could be_ the most powerful weapon created by the world's ancestors, the People Who Came Before.

And like what Kakashi had felt when he and Shizune spoke their goodbyes a week before, seeing for the first time the sight of the rusted steel doors towering over twenty-five feet, its red, faded letterings on its right side written in a language long forgotten—**RESTRICTED ACCESS**, it might've read if she had just known the language—Shizune couldn't shake the ominous feeling off.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

"What else? See if the new seal is as strong as Dad says it is." Naruto didn't really have time to stop and examine it when he first woke, so now was a good time as any to see if there weren't any flaws. If the new seal had anything to do with the freaky identity switch between him and his young counterpart, it would be best to see if there wouldn't be any other side effects. He gave a shudder when he thought of suddenly growing tits and losing his manhood.

"I'll come and tag along."

"Don't," Naruto retorted with a stop gesture. "Figuring out the mechanics of the seal is taxing enough. Listening to your commentary while I work would be too much to bear for my concentration."

"You've worked better in noisier environments," Rambo replied. "I don't see how my presence next to you, shouting right next to your ear about all the conspiracies this world is keeping to us lowly common men—"

"You're an imaginary sheep, not a man."

"—and about the fact that I still think Charlie Sheen was treated unfairly by the higher-ups would disturb your examinations."

"I could care less about this Charoly Sheep of yours, and even lesser about your insane views of things I _cannot_ understand. So why don't you shut up, stay here, and leave me in peace for just this once, do I make myself clear?"

"It's Charlie Sheen! Get it right!"

"DO I MAKE MYSELF _CLEAR_?"

Rambo yelped and took a step back. "Yes, sir," he said in a weak voice, head bowed low. "Sorry, sir."

Naruto knew that he was being a little too hard on the guy, but at the moment he didn't seem to care. He lost a part of his identity, getting Aka-Naruto (or rather, Kiiro-Naruto now) involved in the process, and now he was stuck to repair the rest of the aftermath. He had no doubt that outside, the Sandaime was having his hands full in placating everyone and sweeping mostly everything under the rug. The villagers wouldn't let this little slip be the end. He was at least thankful that nothing dangerous had occurred to his counterpart while he was asleep. His help wouldn't be much use to a dead kid.

Shifting his presence towards the sector that housed the Kyuubi's new prison, Naruto quickly noted the decreased water level. What was once ankle-deep was now as shallow as the thickness of the soles of his sandals, as if he were stepping on a giant, accumulated puddle of water. This was strange, because he clearly remembered the water levels were higher than this when he woke up here last time. His curiosity piqued, he ventured towards the new gates, whose grill bars were thicker and have less of a gap in between. Placed in the center was the seal, but it was protected behind a circular glass dome with two reinforced bars keeping it in place as they extended to each end of the gates, welding into the edges as if they were meant to be there. At first glance, it didn't seem like a good fortification—at least to Naruto—but that opinion could change once he found out the extent of the seal work. When it came to fuinjutsu, the old saying rings true every time: Never judge a book by its cover.

Fortunately for Naruto, his father positioned the intricate structure of the whole seal in an easy to reach manner. All he had to do was place his palm on any part of the gate, close his eyes, and let his inner mind upload and decode the encryptions placed there. He saw the basic requirements of the Shiki Fuuin, so far so good. The modifications in the new seal were outstanding, more so when he processed the subroutines under the "Chakra Filter" program. They seem to be—

His eyes shot open, widening even further when the whole brunt of the matter sank in. "Dad didn't just improve the filter."

The original seal was programmed to absorb the Kyuubi's chakra little by little, adding it all into Naruto's system, thereby increasing his already monstrous reserves. What this new subroutine entailed, however, was something he—and every seal master in existence—thought was impossible. With a beast as strong and powerful as the Kyuubi, the construct of the filter's modified subroutine should've overrode and the seal's defense system would kick into gear to keep the incoming damages at a minimum. Not only had the subroutine remained strong and sturdy—barely even reaching 60% of its total functioning capabilities—it was going through its task without interruption.

Naruto glanced at the hulking figure behind the prison and saw that it was asleep and looked almost as weak as the fox from his own world, minus the gray fur. One of its eyes opened and concentrated on his position where his hand was physically touching one of the bars of its cage. It released a low growl before shifting its head to face away from the prison doors.

"Hey, fox!" he shouted before his mind could keep it shut. The fox didn't give any response; it seemed to have fallen back asleep. Naruto called it a few more times before giving up. This was a strange predicament in itself already. The fox _never_ ignored him outright, especially when he was as close to the gates as this. After his first encounter with it (that time when Jiraiya threw him off that ravine), he took steps to not get too close to the gate lest the fox take another grab at him. Part of him believed that it could be because of the new seal that the fox immediately gave up, but that held little merit when he had already studied most of the fox's behavior. The Kyuubi didn't know when to give up, if ever. It would always stand back up and march forward, never looking back, never thinking of the consequences. Its actions sprang more on the instinctual side of animals, and though it had some cunning like a fox, it never thought of tactical retreats when faced with an opponent stronger than it. Then again, the only beast that could probably rival the fox in terms power would be the Juubi.

_Maybe_, Naruto thought,_ the seal _does_ have a hand in this behavior, but I'm looking at it the wrong way._ It didn't seem to make sense inside his own head, but what other explanation should there be? He might as well keep the question open and hope that it would be answered sometime in the future. Time, however, was not a given luxury, especially for his current predicament, and whether this course action was for the best or the worst, Naruto decided to dive even deeper into the seal matrix. He needed to get to the bottom of this.

His search started at the Chakra Filter's new subroutine. This little addition might as well be a new milestone for aspiring fuinjutsu specialists, seeing that it could revolutionize the containment of the tailed beasts. In every other seal before this, there was always a small fragment of demonic chakra passing through and from the filter. This gave the bijuu and the jinchuuriki a sort of symbiotic relationship, wherein the former was granted a higher level of intelligence (it made sense because whenever a bijuu was out of their seals, their dialogue reverted to that of animals) and the latter was given more access to demonic chakra. It was a give-give situation, though it could be a little biased depending on the seal work used. There was always that symbiotic bond, a bridge between human and demon that would forever remain until the death of the container or the release of the demon—whichever came first, anyway—but with this new subroutine, every expert who learned all they could absorb about jinchuuriki were given a great big slap, because the accursed bond was now gone.

The Fourth Hokage was rightfully called the unrivalled genius of his time, because even in his death he was able to sever the bond between demon and container . . . without killing the container.

Naruto could barely believe it, but a thorough study of the new branches of the seal array was enough evidence to put away his doubts. Pride swelled within him, knowing that his father was even greater than he had envisioned him before. With this new and finer filter in place, the chakra from the fox transferred over to Kiiro-Naruto's system no longer held any trace of malevolence, thereby assuring that he wouldn't die from overexposure to demonic chakra.

"You're screwed, furball," Naruto murmured, forming a lopsided smile. "Totally screwed."

It seemed a time to celebrate, but this news didn't give him answers. Why did he and his counterpart change appearances? This subroutine certainly had nothing to do with it, he was sure of that. So it was back to studying more of the seal work, noting some differences and improvements along the way, but nothing that could imply an anomaly as strange as what the two Narutos experienced.

It would take another hour before Naruto found something of interest. The weird thing about it was the way it was weaved into the array, as if his father had done it in a rush. It wasn't a subroutine or even an add-on program, its objectives lost even to Naruto despite trying to decipher its encryptions. The best he could make of it was that it was made to be a doorway, but to where that doorway would lead was unknown. He tried opening it, but it was locked. It couldn't be a backdoor for the prison—no way Minato would even think of doing something stupid and cliché—so then, why was it here? What was the purpose of a door that neither gave exit nor entry to anyone?

"Look underneath the underneath," Naruto said out loud, drawing comfort from that one quote alone. Whenever he came into a snag in his fuinjutsu training, that one little phrase was like a switch for his inner mind to up the stakes, in a matter of speaking. He didn't know how, but saying those words always left him with a clear and open mind, casting light to possibilities he might not have considered before.

Naruto tracked back to the first layer of the seal's design, tracing each and every tiny line for a break or a change. When he came to the layer underneath, he found what he was looking for. A small stroke that was deliberately arced upwards to form a teardrop-like curve. It all seemed to come together now. Maybe his father made this a rushed job on purpose, predicting that Naruto would want to get some answers. But that would mean . . . Minato _knew_ about what could happen to both Narutos.

_Then why didn't he tell me?_ Naruto thought, but then recalled a moment in his last talk with Minato. He couldn't remember what was said, only that it was something of importance. _Well, the hair and eye change seem to be something important._

So then why make a door? Why tell him about the identity change seconds before he disappears when he could've told him at any time before that? Would he and Kiiro-Naruto turn back to normal after he unlocked and opened that door?

With questions unanswered, Naruto made his choice. Despite the gut feeling that this was something dangerous, he was going through with it. He would open that door and find the answers himself. To start with, he needed to unlock the door, but that was already solved after he found the curve. It acted as a secure lock, but fuinjutsu specialists rarely use this type because it was easy to break and there was no code embedded into its matrix. Definitely not something Minato would've placed if the door was meant to stay locked. With a practiced sway of his hands and fingers, the teardrop-shaped curve was rearranged to mix with the main stroke of the Program Code.

There was an audible click; he struck pay dirt.

Now it was only a simple matter of summoning the door to the mindscape . . . a little projection . . . done.

Naruto stepped away from the Kyuubi's prison and neared the simple-looking door. It was shorter than any door he had come across before, barely any gap between the top of his head and the top frame. If Jiraiya had been here, he would have to bow low to avoid bumping his face. The more Naruto thought of it, the more he thought that this door was probably specifically created for him. It was even colored in orange, its knob and hinges painted a deep blue, like his eyes (his original eyes, anyway). The colors and the simplicity of its veneer made him a little cautious, although he could practically hear himself wanting to open it, as if he was under a mind-control genjutsu.

No use turning back now, though.

He looked at the Kyuubi behind its cage, at the seal protected in the dome, at the floor where, as he had guessed, it was clear of any water. Not a puddle to be found. It was quiet, not even the low snoring of the sleeping fox could be considered a breaker of the silence. Naruto wanted this, wanted a good long look at the last place he was in before venturing into parts unknown. He thought of the kid Naruto, his mother, and, strangely enough, Rambo. He had people to get back to, and it strengthened his resolve.

"Ready to take on the world."

Naruto twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

I don't want to hear shit about my viewpoint on the symbiotic relationship of bijuu and jinchuuriki. As far as I know, this holds true, because I have not heard the Kyuubi say anything more than roars and grunts when it was razing Konoha on October 10th, 12 years before the start of Naruto (Please refer to Chapter 500 onwards). And while you might argue that with Shukaku, the Ichibi no Tanuki, who was actually speaking coherently when it was let out, you also have to remember that Shukaku wasn't out of the seal _completely_. It was only a matter of headbutting Gaara for the demon to return to its prison. No sacrifices or anything.

I'm sure most of you have already forgotten about Shizune and her little team. Maybe Kakashi's feelings of forebode weren't strong enough. Just maybe. I wasn't about to let Shizune become an unimportant character, not with the goals I have in mind. Her inclusion into the narrative didn't fit during the events of the Second Coming; she had to be pushed quite a while back until the aftermath of the whole mess. It remains to be seen whether I speak more about her in later chapters or wait for a while until the narrative reveals a window of opportunity.


	10. The World God Only Knows

Date written: 15/03/11 – 16/05/11

Posted on FanFiction: 16/05/11

A/N: Finally got this out. April has been a very tiring month for me, mostly due to OJT stressing the hell out of me. If only I had bought a laptop during those slow, idle times of an OJT day, this would've been done sooner. But as it was, I had to do with what I have in hand, which was paper and pen. Meh, that's all behind me now.

And maybe I had come a little too high strung when I said those words in the last afterword. I've reviewed the manga's 504th chapter, and there really was a single speech balloon where the Kyuubi spoke outside the seal—the others were articulated thoughts, not spoken out loud but they were still clear exhibitions of human rationality and logic. But, in the essence of fanfiction, I'm going to just ignore that single speech balloon in favor of the three or four other articulated thoughts of the Kyuubi. "The fox might've exhibited rational thinking, but not verbal speech" is going to be a modified point in this story. Don't like it? Then deal with it. My story, my rules, and the Kyuubi is a secondary character at best anyway; not much development going onto it in any case.

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 10 ––**

**The World God Only Knows**

Naruto was a man of action. There was rarely a time where he didn't sit down and think things over if action seemed to speak louder than any other choice he could make. With that said, it brought no wonder to anyone who knew him when he jumped headfirst into a situation he had no idea what it would entail to him or his wellbeing . . . again. Crossing the doorway left a sense of parting for Naruto once his two feet exited the orange ambience of the sewer area. It wasn't bad _per se_, but definitely odd, like a newborn's umbilical cord being cut.

The first thing he felt was the sudden coldness of his surroundings before realizing that he had stumbled into a place that was covered in fathom deep snow. There was howling wind to his left, scattering the surface of the snow and misting the distance into gray. He couldn't see anything farther than ten feet, eyes squinted due to the strong wind, but instinctively understood that if he wanted to find the answers within this place, he had to go straight.

"Should've let Rambo come with me," he mused with a shake of his head as he conjured an orange winter coat out of thin air. "His wool would've made a very warm sweater."

After reflecting over a lost opportunity for a few more moments, he gave one last look at the open door, its presence within all this gray—even the snow looked gray, as if they were more ice cold ash than actual snow—disturbing the natural look of the place. Naruto suddenly received an image of an invisible house with its front door open, showing its interior to whoever was on the front lawn. He couldn't help it; he snorted from abating his laughter.

"I'll be back," he said to the door, to the familiar mindscape he was leaving behind, but most importantly to the family he was leaving behind. "And that's a promise."

The surface of the snow gave under the weight of his feet, immersing both limbs into a feeling of cold Naruto hadn't experienced since his ordeal in Snow Country. The smart thing would've been to transfigure his sandals into winter boots to go along with the coat, but the thought hadn't crossed his mind at all. Suppose that if this were in the outside world and Naruto wasn't essentially a soul trapped inside a boy's head, he could've been feeling the effects of frostbite after his feet were exposed to the bare icy elements in a period of time. But since that this was not the case on both accounts, he had no problems traversing this place. He'd just felt coldness in his feet, nothing more.

Minutes passed him by, and these minutes turned to hours, and these hours turned to probably a half-day, and still Naruto couldn't see a change in this endless field of snow, storm, and gray. His ears were numb, his throat was entering the early stages of laryngitis, his hair was being a nice little home for the lone, gray snowflakes that separated from the main flock, his legs and feet were beyond feeling any kind of pain, and his patience was close to breaking. But even if he wanted to shout every complaint he had inside his head just waiting to burst out like a crack in a dam, it would be fruitless and would just sap his energy. He needed every bit of it to keep on walking.

And as he walked, his mind pondered over many different things, trying to keep the thoughts processes as slow as possible so as not to run out of ideas before he could reach whatever destination he was supposed to arrive in. These topics range from the mediocre to the mysterious, from the friends he made in his life to the enemies he had to kill for the sake of the war and his village. Despite his relatively short life in his old reality, he still did travel the world, going from country to country, learning all that he could, ranging from the habits of the people to the cultures which seem alien to him in some way. Nostalgia radiated from him in waves, and more than once he repeated gestures like the shake of his head, a knowing smile on his face, and even an eye-twitch, which was mostly reserved for when he thought of Ero-Sennin and his many escapades during their two-and-a-half year training trip.

Eventually, his thoughts returned to Kiiro-Naruto and his present condition. It was probably a long stretch to think that the kid had woken up while he was still inside this blizzard, trying to find answers when there didn't seem to be anything to clue into what he should do other than walk, walk, and walk some more. Still, he had hope that the kid would pull through, but not believing the kid to be the same as he had been before the events of the Second Coming. There were just too many emotional scars, either born out of nightmares or his mind inputting fear through his subconscious; another would have to be the fallouts from the Second Coming and the mental instability of the one constant in Kiiro-Naruto's life, Kushina. His whole life had more or less fallen apart, and that in itself could change anyone. Even Naruto had to mature much quicker than he was comfortable with due to the war. Many of his friends suffered the same. Others . . . others never had the chance to, becoming nothing more than casualties in an uphill battle.

His walk through the snowy wasteland was coming to a close when the heavy fog of the snowstorm dwindled a little for him to locate a silhouette in the distance. It was too far to accurately tell what it was, but he was quite certain that it was a tall and wide structure, stretching as far as the fog could let him see. He couldn't tell how far he was to the structure, and when this fleeting thought was completely processed inside a portion of Naruto's mind where it specialized in weighing decisions with cat-nervous caution and hawk-eyed examination, he chanced a look over his shoulder, wanting to wish that his feeling of walking for hours or days was but a mere illusion of his mind going through thousands of mentally worded thoughts in the span of milliseconds, but also wishing that the doorway out of this ash-snow wasteland was far out of reach for him to consider turning back. If he were to see that open doorway—a rectangular shine of light, burning like a bonfire, against the all-gray environment—he feared he might lose his nerve, despite the promises he had to keep, not only to himself but also his child counterpart.

There was a feeling in this place he didn't like. Not one bit. And it was setting him on edge, urging him to fondle the kunai in his winter coat for temporary comfort. There was no danger to be found, but this feeling was more of a sense of forebode than a warning for an immediate threat. In his time in the Fourth Great Shinobi War, this sixth sense for danger saved him and his comrades on many occasions. He never once ignored it whenever the urgency for it to be followed was shouting out like a whole village screaming to the heavens, like now.

The situation was inappropriate for such an action, but Naruto couldn't halt his lips from curving into a smile. He rarely smiled so grimly in the face of . . . of what exactly? Danger? But there was _no_ danger; this is paranoia, pure and simple paranoia brought on by war fatigue.

Naruto liked to believe that was the case. But he didn't, and that just made him edgier.

As he came much closer to the structure, his earlier suspicions of it were confirmed. It was a wall, a towering wall, almost seemed as if it wanted to touch the sky and might likely succeed. While he felt a little better that he could now put a name to the unknown structure, the fact that it was a wall did not ease down his twitchy fingers from wanting to fish out a kunai and expect the worst from beyond the fog. Because walls meant either two things: it was built to keep someone from going in . . . or out.

Whether this could be disputed was probably irrelevant. He came here to seek answers, and he was not about to end this journey because of uncertainty. But still, the ambience of this place was downright peculiar that already half of his mind was begging for his legs to do an about-face and then quicken the pace back to the open doorway. If it was still there, open, maybe.

Naruto kept walking towards the identified structure, and he only stopped when he was a yard away from smacking his body against solid material.

As he placed a hand on the great wall—he vaguely remembered Rambo talking about a great wall in a place he called China or something—he marveled its surface. Smooth and solid; whoever were the masons responsible for such craftsmanship had to be praised and, at the same time, feared. There was just something . . . otherworldly about the surface's perfection, that such perfection, smoothness, and verticality could be constructed from the hands of mortal men. The thought alone seemed implausible, even downright ludicrous. But there it was, in his reach, his forefinger tracing an invisible horizontal line before it reached the end of its tangent. It took a few moments longer for him to consider one obvious aspect about the wall's spotless perfection; he might as well blame that on this being a deeper section of the mindscape, something not normally accessed by any mind walker or even the owner of the mind himself. From what he heard about the human brain from Tsunade—and in some instances, Sakura's simple opinions on the matter—it had plenty of untapped potential, wherein the average human had access to only a third. A sheer waste, according to Tsunade, and while he could agree to that, there was another side to the story, at least to Sakura's opinion. Apparently she liked delving into folklore and legends during her free time, and this hobby often clashed with Tsunade's straightforward and realist views. To what Sakura could surmise from ancient text, history books, and even the ideas of philosophers long dead, humans were once not this 'primitive,' for lack of a better word. An event in history—a time long forgotten and most likely buried in the aftermath—caused the humans to be cursed, whether it was by gods or something else, Sakura did not clarify (perhaps for more generalization until she found evidence to increase credibility to her claim). This was why the human mind did not and could not achieve its full potential, because there was a block that prevented their intelligence from higher thinking and understanding. Naruto was inclined to believe this, mostly because he had wanted a scapegoat for his rather low intelligence in his kid and early teen years. A lot of people would've assumed he agreed because of his unyielding love for her. But whether this was true fact or something else, Sakura never had the chance to find out. Her off-and-on research died along with her.

Naruto looked up at the wall, trying in vain to identify any imperfection in its creation. A dent, a crack, anything. The wall was perfectly straight, perfectly smooth, and free of any contours or designs to get an inkling of a mental picture of the person (or persons) who made this. The more he tried to find out, the more mysteries and questions popped into his head.

Well, he couldn't find answers by staring. His search was not yet over, and this wall was getting in the way. Naruto looked up, spotted the topmost level of the roof, and readied himself for a chakra-supplied wall-run. He applied the necessary chakra into the pathways above the soles of his feet, jumped, and slammed both feet onto the surface. He was about to take the first step upward, but his feet were slipping downward, not at all glued on the wall as they should be. His body followed after.

It was here that Naruto took back every complaint he had of the snow—well, maybe not _all_ of them—because it saved him from a painful fall on his head and back. He recalled a time when he first started the tree-walking exercise and fell on his head like a fool. The pain had flashed like a sun, no other occasion came close to be compared with it at the time, and he had to nurse it on his own—Kakashi was slightly indifferent, knowing that this was a lesson for his cocky ego; Sasuke thought of him as a test product for not applying enough chakra to the soles; and Sakura was probably awaiting praise from their sensei and, most importantly _Sasuke-kun_, atop a branch of a tree. Flashforward to events with the Akatsuki, the Great Shinobi War, and his battle with Madara Uchiha, that blow to the head was minuscule and better off forgotten. But Naruto didn't forget, and he doubted he ever would.

Lifting himself off the ground, dusting his coat, he examined the wall surface more thoroughly. He had used the proper amount of chakra to his soles, he knew that. There was no way he would blunder such a basic technique after all these years. It had to be the wall.

He walked towards it, channeling chakra to his palms this time, and high-fived it. The result was instantaneous and the chakra he transferred outwards was forcefully pushed back into his system, enough that it even pushed his hand towards his back like one of Lee's over-excited victory high-fives, which he and his whole arm had been victims to plenty of times.

"Whatever this wall's made of," Naruto said, voicing his thoughts out, "it's rejecting chakra. A chakra-proof wall?"

That wasn't a good sign, not even a reasonable sign. A construct designed to reject the administration of chakra was quite unheard of, even in Naruto's world. There were chakra-resistant armor and the like, but there were never enough materials to create a structure that was chakra-_proof_. The problem about repelling the very life force of every living thing in the planet was the rarity of the sole element capable of this incredible feat, and even then it was merely more resistant than other elements, like the thickest and densest fabric acting as a barrier against water.

Then again, he had to remember that he was inside the realm of dreams, the realm of the mindscape, if the unexplored boundaries of a person's mind, anyway. Such a wall shouldn't be surprising at all, but still, it unnerved him a little. He also had to wonder about the purpose of a chakra-proof wall. Was there something on the other side so terrible that a wall of this nature was erected to keep it in bay . . . or was he thinking this the wrong way, and that who- or whatever that was behind this wall was warding off outside influence?

With questions wanting to be answered posthaste, he picked a direction, turned right, and headed off in search for a way in. He barely made ten steps before an idea came to him, which prompted him to perform the cross-fingered seal for his trademark jutsu.

"Kage Bunshin no jutsu!"

One clone materialized within the technique's theatrical smoke. The clone circled itself, getting a grasp of his surrounding, as if synchronizing with his creator's memories were too surreal to believe until he saw everything with his own eyes, before those eyes landed on the Boss. He gave him a crisp salute, and true to being a fragment of Naruto's self, he knew exactly what he was made to do without the master saying a word. "On it, Boss."

Naruto gave the clone a small nod and watched him dash the opposite direction of where he was headed. How wide this wall went was a complete mystery and it paid to ensure that every part of it was investigated, to be sure that he didn't miss an easy way through the other side. He also thought about creating a second clone to traverse the other direction, but dismissed it immediately. He was not a patient man; waiting for his clones to find an entrance and then dispel, thereby letting him know the whereabouts of this entrance, was not a pleasing agenda, and so he believed it better for him to search for himself while a lone clone did the work on the other end. And if this barrier formed a full circle . . . well, it would put a wrench in his infiltration plan, but not destroy his confidence. As that old song went, there ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no river wide enough, and ain't no valley low enough to keep him from his goals.

* * *

While Naruto busied himself in his search for answers in a world outside the realms of physical reality, the Naruto in the realm in question, Kiiro-Naruto, slept a dreamless sleep. The bandages were once more covering his face, giving only ample space for his eyes, nose, and mouth. It was still too early to ensure that he was fit as he could be, and for the time being, his assigned physician, Doctor Yusuke Itou, decided on bed rest until the boy came out of his coma. There would be no specialized mind techniques to jump start his brain activity, more likely to hide his strange metamorphosis into a person praised high and low by the majority, if not every living person, in the village. To further strengthen this move, the legendary medic-nin Tsunade Senju seconded his decision. Of course, no one but a handful of individuals knew who was really sleeping on that bed, covered head to toe in bandages. All the rest knew was that it was a burn victim found in the aftermath of the Second Coming and the only reason he was being treated so attentively by two renowned practitioners of the medical field was due to the victim's very close proximity to the Kyuubi's malevolent chakra; nothing more than a living test subject to help promote a better understanding on the harmful effects of demonic chakra exposure.

So as the world revolved on its axis, complying with the pushes and pulls of time's direction, Naruto let it all pass him by as wounds he was not completely aware of were finally beginning to heal. The slow poison from the demonic chakra filtering through his system was being eradicated to a cellular level, weakening the Kyuubi's influence as the immune system worked its way to reclaiming energy to do its assigned tasks. In time, Naruto would then become a healthy five-year-old child, but with him being bedridden and kept alive through the nutrients from an IV tube and from the sheer will to live in his bloodline, there was little to change as of this moment. The body couldn't morph to become stronger and healthier without anything more than glucose fed to him intravenously. Despite that, the dilatory improvement of Naruto's condition was nothing short of a miracle.

But something else began to happen to Naruto's body. It could be another sign of improvement or probably an omen for future events that could derail fate into a spiral of chaotic endeavors. However it could be interpreted, why this occurred was expected. What the Naruto from the original world missed when he studied the mechanics of the new seal, what he failed to comprehend, was the consequences of blocking every orifice able to transfer demonic chakra out of the Kyuubi's psychological prison, and letting residual demonic chakra outside the seal bypass through the many filters in place and return to its forerunner. The effects of such a phenomenon did more than make Kiiro-Naruto healthy once more (due to his body's low tolerance with demonic chakra in his system), it also reverted some of the odd mutations caused by the mere constant exposure of demonic chakra. The healing factor and insanely large chakra pool remained because this was something of Naruto's body's own doing, adapting to survive, trying to integrate a foreign form of life force. But one particular aspect of Naruto disappeared along with every trace of the Kyuubi's chakra in his system.

His whisker marks.

Maybe if his face hadn't been covered again with bandages, the nurse assigned to watch over him three to four times a day during her shift might've informed Doctor Itou, who would then inform the Hokage, of the event. But such speculation would be left as it was.

As his whisker marks dissipate, like so many of his wounds suddenly closing—a testament of his healing factor—Naruto groaned out loud, and it would be the only audible sound he would utter on that day other than the steady rhythm of his breath exiting his nose. The nurse would check his pulse, temperature, and blood pressure twenty-four minutes after his groan, and throughout the examination he was as quiet as a corpse. She sensed something different with the child patient, but with this being her last stop before the end of her shift, she was exhausted and in a hurry to catch some Z's in her home, so she deflected the feeling with little difficulty. After all this, even as the sun sets and the moon rises from the horizon, what lay beyond those carefully wrapped bandages were clear and unblemished cheeks, still unseen from everyone. Naruto remained in his coma that night. He was dreaming no dreams, and probably a first in a very long time, he was at peace with himself and the darkness of sleep.

* * *

Konohagakure no Sato was still in the midst of healing, and while she was duty-bound to stay in the hospital and contribute to the reparation of the damages, she was unfortunately ordered to go home and rest for twelve hours _at least_. And even though she ascended enough ranks to pull on most, if not all, the doctors and nurses who even _think_ of ordering her to rest when the village was in dire need of every helping hand it could produce, this particular order could not be ignored.

And with a somewhat heavy heart, Tsunade Senju complied with the Hokage's orders and went home to sleep. It was three in the afternoon.

She expected to be the only one home today but she was wrong. After closing the door and in the middle of turning around to the view of the Senju ancestral home's foyer, Tsunade was, more or less, tackled by a person no taller than the height of her waist. There was no actual force behind the tackle, so she was able to retain her balance with ease. She then looked down at the tackler, who let out a giggle.

"Welcome home, Mom," the tackler said, panning her face up, her right eye covered by several strands of vibrant bleach-white hair. The other eye, free of any obstructions, looked up at Tsunade, young chestnut brown eye glistening with unfathomable youth and vigor against dark brown eyes that have already lost their shine and what was left was the hardened mentality of a kunoichi who had lived through two devastating wars over the course of her first fifty decades of life. Two pairs of eyes that portray different ideals, different experiences—one having little, the other having too much—that compared innocence to cynicism and the subtle differences between offspring and parent.

Tsunade gave her daughter a tired smile. "Tadaima (_**tr.**_ I'm home/back), Chiyome." She returned the hug with enthusiasm, though. It had been days since she last saw her little bundle of joy, what with the chaos spawning left and right inside the hospital. "Shouldn't you be at the Academy at this time?" She remembered that they didn't dismiss until half past four.

Chiyome moved away after the hug and shook her head. "The Academy is closed for the week. Nobody can tell me why, no matter who I ask."

Her stomach did a backflip. How could she have not known this? And in that, did that mean what she thought it meant while she overlooked checking up on the girl during her time at the hospital? "Then you've been here for three whole days, alone?" _Please God, don't let it be so._

"Most of the time," she answered with a shrug. "But that's okay. I'm a kunoichi-in-training. We have to be self-sufficient, right?" She brushed the hair covering her right eye to the back of her ear. More than a few strands stubbornly returned to their initial places.

"Hasn't Daddy come by at all?"

"Nope. Daddy never came home." Chiyome looked to the side, sighing. "I heard from Kakashi-san that he was probably off researching—"

A desire to kill Jiraiya for negligence came knocking at the aggressive side of her personality—and she had more than half a mind to go out now, find him, and introduce a transcendent level of pain on the fucking asshole—but it disintegrated immediately after realizing that she was being hypocritical.

"—some seals in the library of the Northern Fire Temple," the daughter continued, unaware of the thought passing through the mother's mind.

And now Tsunade felt worse for jumping to conclusions. She and Jiraiya had been married for over eleven years—going so far as to marry into her clan and retaining Senju as her surname—and he had been nothing short of faithful. Whenever she suspected infidelity, he always had a reason for the misunderstanding. And after every accusation, every heated word spat out from her venomous mouth, he always forgave her, because, in a way, he understood her lack of trust. It was not because of his infamous reputation as a super pervert, a womanizer, and author of a universally acclaimed series of smut books; not even his restriction order from every bathhouse in Konoha (first time the Hokage ever issued a location-to-person restriction order, instead of the standard person-to-person) because the women would never be at ease as long as the pervert could come within ten feet of the property when a ban could only restrict _entry_. No, her distrust was not born from Jiraiya's rambunctious and promiscuous life as a single bachelor, but from a person she would never have fathomed in all her life. It was all because of her ex-boyfriend, Dan.

"But who's been taking care of you all this time?" she asked, still unwilling to believe that an eight-year-old girl could be as independent as she claimed. Something about this didn't add up.

Looking like an amateur con being caught by the police, Chiyome grimaced ever so slightly, straining hard as she could to keep the poker face intact. It was a subtle change, barely few muscles contracted to the accusation, but Tsunade was a hardened kunoichi; it was easy enough to detect a secret being kept from her when she was close enough to Chiyome's face to observe two, three sweat beads trailing down the sides of both cheeks. Tsunade didn't like what this implied: that this news was probably something she disapproved of.

"I sometimes . . ." Chiyome began, but paused, unsure if she should proceed, but was motivated to continue after the stern look her mother showed her. "I sometimes go to Sasuke-kun's house for lunch and dinner. Mikoto-san didn't seem to mind."

There was still presence of a rivalry going on between the Uchiha and Senju, despite the latter clan consisting of two females and a male who was a Senju by law not blood. The thing was, even though the Senju had dwindled into a number that could no longer be considered itself a clan, Konoha still revered them, the founding clan. In most cases, people believe that the Senju alone were the founders of Konoha, and that the Uchiha had nothing to do in part of it other than splashing in their name as a co-founder. It inflamed many Uchiha during the day, and the deep hatred between the two clans just escalated as generation after generation entered the world of ninja and the village. This time, however, the rivalry became one-sided after most of the Senju clan had been wiped out during the Third Shinobi World War. Tsunade could care less about some obscure squabble between her ancestor and the Uchiha's ancestor; her mind was on more practical priorities, then _and_ now.

So her dislike of the red-eyed copycats didn't stem from her clan. Inside her head, Tsunade let out a sardonic laugh that echoed in the imaginary walls of her mentality. Dan left more scars than she was willing to admit to anyone, not even to her own husband, Jiraiya.

The Uchiha were also suspected of conspiracy against Konoha, what with the recent rumors spreading in the grapevines about how the Sharingan could take control of a bijuu just as easily as her grandfather's rare affinity mutation, Mokuton. It could sure explain how Madara Uchiha had stolen the Kyuubi from her grandfather's control.

Associating with the Uchiha wasn't on her to-do list anytime soon, that much could be ascertain, but the same could not be said to her daughter, who had met Itachi Uchiha in her first year at the Ninja Academy through coincidental means. And as this normal sempai-kouhai relationship continued as if it were a common thing in the school (a lot of ancestors were probably rolling on their graves), Chiyome ultimately met the Uchiha prodigy's little brother. Whatever immeasurable affection Itachi had towards Sasuke seemed to have infected Chiyome; she always made time for Sasuke, whether playing, storytelling, or just hanging out together. Tsunade might not have heard of this at all if she hadn't at least been on speaking terms with the brothers' mother, Mikoto, who was a little carefree and had immediately accepted the buddy-buddy-ness between their offspring. Mikoto had been so easy to talk to and polite and sweet—a sucker punch to the stereotypical Uchiha Tsunade had the misfortune of teaming up with during the span of the second and third wars—that Tsunade had to begrudgingly accept the cultivating bond as well. In the two years since this Senju-Uchiha association began, Chiyome seemed to have realized her mother's cold indifference with Uchiha in general, so she made it a habit not to tell her time spent with Sasuke and Itachi . . . unless she was forced to.

"And you didn't cause trouble, I hope," Tsunade replied, five seconds after Chiyome last spoke.

The girl shook her head, white hair that reached her waist swaying from side-to-side. The strands she had tucked behind her ear untangled and shrouded her right eye once more. This annoyed her.

Noticing this, Tsunade quipped, "Maybe it's time to take you to the barber's again."

"Uh-uh," Chiyome whined.

"Why not?"

"Because—" She paused again, biting her lower lip, but soon gathered the courage to finish the sentence: "Because Sasuke-kun said I look good with long hair."

Tsunade was in the middle of a yawn when he heard that, and her open mouth shut tight, teeth colliding with such force her ears heard the booming CRUNCH! Eyes expressing surprise but not shock—though Tsunade had to admit that her emotions were near to crossing that border—she stared at Chiyome, wanting and demanding that what was just said was a joke. It didn't seem so.

"I asked for his opinion," Chiyome continued. "Itachi-sempai said the same."

She might have had something more to say, but she was still quite exhausted from work, her waking awareness fuelled mainly by self-control and an overabundance of caffeine coursing in her system. For now, she'd have to consider this the end of their talk. That bed was becoming very enticing in her thoughts.

So after releasing a steady sigh through her nose, she said to her daughter, "If you want your hair long, then okay. But next time just say you want it long." A repeat declaration was not a good idea.

"I don't really understand what you mean, but okay." She nodded for emphasis.

"Listen, sweetie, Mommy is really tired from work, so she has to go to bed now."

"But what about dinner?"

Damn. She forgot about that. And Chiyome didn't seem to be in the mood for takeout. The only alternative would be to get homemade food elsewhere, and she knew where her daughter would go to first.

"Okay," she said slowly, "then how about waking me up about . . . seven-thirty and I'll whip us up some katsudon?" It was Chiyome's favorite dish.

As expected, the girl's eyes lit up with excitement and nodded vigorously, which shifted the tucked strands to cover her eye again. Excitement was forced to make room for annoyance as the soft growl escaped her throat.

Tsunade chuckled. "I'll go get a hairclip." And then she bit back another yawn. Sleep would have to wait awhile.

* * *

After a two-and-a-half hour nap which was followed by a supper for two and a later tuck-in for her eight-year-old daughter, Tsunade waded back into the master bedroom and slumped onto the soft heavenly mattress of the king-size bed. She didn't fight back the yawn that escaped her mouth; she was too tired.

She didn't even bother changing into her nightwear like what she had done hours before. The only things she changed about her wardrobe were removing the bindings on her breasts (it was uncomfortable to sleep with them on) and stripping off her pants. The two tasks required a bit of tossing and turning and even some legwork, which might've been easier if she didn't do them while lying on the bed. But the strength that kept her standing up instantly disappeared the moment her body hit the bouncy surface of the bed. Now clad only in white panties and a very loose top—one nipple in danger of becoming fully exposed—Tsunade grabbed for one of the pillows and slid it behind her head. She closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of contentment. Then opened one eye to see that she forgot to turn off the lights.

_Oh for God's sake!_

She grunted and wrapped her body—head and all—with the sheets. Just imagine that she had taken the graveyard shift and had to sleep during the day. It would not be the first time. But sleep eluded her, even after ten whole minutes of inactivity. The glare of the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling greeted her when she peered out of the sheets. It was simpler for sleep to take her when she was as tired as she was four hours ago. The nap returned some numbed functions in her mind and this slight rejuvenation was followed by something she set aside into the backburner while she was still saving lives in the hospital. And now with nothing to put her mind off of contemplating unsettled thoughts—that _something_ included—she was desperate for either action to preoccupy her or sleep to delay the inevitable pondering. It seemed cowardly, but she had reason not wanting to face thinking about this particular subject.

But knowing that sleep was not possible while her mind was somewhat anxious to ease the burden brought on by the unsettled stuff in her head, she had to do something whether she liked it or not. She slipped off the bed, fixed her half-topless state, and waddled to the light switch. A simple tug downward followed by an audible click later, the bedroom was bathed in the blackness of shadows.

The sole window in the room, a rectangular two-glass opening whose right side could be slid to the left, was draped a quarter of the way with curtains in the colors of earth clay. A view of Konoha's nightlife loomed beyond the glass, and the ambient light from the neon signs, yard lights, streetlamps, and lanterns all came together in a jumbled frenzy of kaleidoscope-like mix and invaded the threshold of Tsunade's bedroom, splashing all four sides of the room with watered-down hues of the paint and wallpaper adorning them. She stepped beside the curtain and tugged it, covering the rest of the window, and the room was again apinted with the domineering presence of black.

It only took her eyes ten seconds to adjust to nocturnal sight. Her extrasensory awareness of her body's simple and involuntary changes informed her of the rapid widening of her pupils as the gloom in her sight faded until she was able to distinguish the many objects inside the room. She observed everything, these everyday objects, slowly, deliberately, desperately. Anything to occupy her mind.

But a deep part of her knew that this was an inevitable event, and delaying it indefinitely would probably do nothing to improve the situation. This thing she tried to stop herself from pondering, from accepting, it would need an answer from her sooner or later. Much too soon for her liking.

One hand moved up to her face, cradling it, as she slumped to a squatting position on the floor, her back planted on the curtain-covered wall. Too soon. The plan Hiruzen-sensei cooked up was enacting too soon.

The Sandaime Hokage had approached her earlier that afternoon to discuss with her a matter of great importance. Obedient as she was as a genin as she was now as a kunoichi renowned for her medical achievements and for giving the arrogant chauvinists a good slap in the face for all current and future kunoichi discrimination, there was no will in her to refuse no matter how busy she was. Her sensei made time for them—a trio of six-year-old misfits, a time when the Densetsu no Sannin were nothing more than greenhorns fresh out of the Academy using the olden curriculum—so it seemed only right to extend the same courtesy in the opposite direction.

But what was said when they moved to the privacy of her office was nothing short of heated. Neither escalated to shouts, although she had been tempted more than once, but the searing heat was still present. If not in their words and voices, but in their fiery gazes and glares. Here were two ninjas—master and student once—overloaded with stress accumulated from days of salvaging the damage brought on by the Second Coming through their respective occupations as village leader and head medic-nin; and both were too strong-willed and persistent to back down on each other's argument.

"I can't do what you ask, sensei," she had said, her conviction set, but not believing this conversation could be over after that. Not by a long shot.

"Tsunade," the Hokage said, "please see reason. You're his last living relative in this village."

"I'm only distantly related to him, and even then, we're stretching the family tree a little too far."

"Ah, yes, but you are _still_ his godmother."

Tsunade had nothing to rebuke that.

"I wish there was another choice," the Third admitted, "I really do, but Naruto-kun is in a fragile position. One wrong move and there'd be nothing left I can do to save him."

"But you're asking too much from me!" she hissed, controlling her voice in time when it intended to cry out indignantly. "I can't . . . can't . . ."

"Yes, you can and you _will_, Tsunade." His eyes narrowed. "Isn't it your duty as godmother to watch over Naruto-kun when Kushina can no longer do so?"

"It is, I know that, but—"

"Then you have to accept this." He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "The nobles were screaming for blood, the blood of a five-year-old child. If they're not appeased, then I fear for the safety of Konoha. Soon, my position as Hokage will be meaningless once the daimyo decides to enter this affair."

"Then why not put Naruto into hiding?"

"He _is_ hiding, Tsunade. And when you agree to the terms I made we'll be able to hide him better. He can start over."

Saying 'when' instead of 'if' aggravated her ire. If she had been a lesser woman, she would've stormed out of that office, defeated but unwilling to agree, duties as godmother be damned! But she owed a lot of things to Kushina, and among the many candidates for her son's godparent, she chose her. Not Kakashi, not Jiraiya (though Minato contemplated it), not even Rin. But her. Her, the drunkard (ex-drunkard anyway), the cynical and broken-spirited hag, the woman who made so many mistakes in her life, shrouded by success stories fit for the history books. She couldn't believe it then, and she still couldn't believe it now, but the decision was clear and her attachment to Naruto's life was set. Tsunade was the person Kushina trusted the most.

But this . . . this plan . . . it—

Hiruzen was asking her to legally adopt Naruto, under a new name, a new identity, while he made the final preparations for the news he would address to the public at a later date. It was not that she didn't want to Naruto, it was just that the method employed was questionable to her beliefs. As godmother, she already the right to take Naruto in, but that status meant nothing but shit if Hiruzen were to enact this foolhardy plan of his: to inform the masses that Naruto Uzumaki was officially dead. In paper, anyway. Naruto's strange transformation brought with it a great advantage, spawning the seed that grew into what Sarutobi and Tsunade had been discussing. To further separate a link between the past and present Narutos, he must have a different background and history. Orphaned at a young age, where the mother entrusted his care into Tsunade's hands a week before the Second Coming. Tsunade was unsure how far her sensei was willing to go to ensure Naruto's safety (what was next? Memory-wiping so that Naruto wouldn't accidentally slipup, saying something compromising, and ruin the entire thing?), but she at least trusted his judgment—to a degree. A legal adoption was a legal adoption. This was all for Naruto's safety and, both hoped, a chance for him to have a childhood without the stigmas and prejudices weighing down on his shoulders. So why hesitate? Why refuse signing the adoption papers?

_Because it's like I'm stealing Naruto away from Kushina._

She could accept babysitting indefinitely for the kid, but adoption? It was a step far steeper than the former choice.

Adoption is serious business in the Elemental Nations. It doesn't fall under the same clan laws in Konoha, which is why clans rarely participate in such acts unless there's a worthy benefit. Adoption is semi-permanent, and if the child's parent wants to regain custody to their child, the matter has to be settled in court—even if all parties involved were in agreement. Furthermore, adopted children cannot be disowned and then readopted by another family either; disownment is impossible. If Tsunade were to sign those papers, Naruto could no longer go back to being an Uzumaki. His mother's clan would eventually die with her generation.

Family was everything to Kushina, to Tsunade. And both took pride in their clan and their place in it. To try and remove their association with their clans was nothing short of suicidal. Tsunade knew Kushina wanted to raise Naruto into a proud Uzumaki, and now such a notion seemed almost like an impossible dream. When those papers are signed, he would be a Senju till the die he died.

Back to reality and the dark bedroom in the Senju ancestral home, Tsunade lifted herself from her squat and lay on the bed. Once these memories entered the forefront of her mind, they screamed for recognition, kicked for want of a listening ear, for want of a chance to be acknowledged. And she let them. Running away from the real, from the present, wouldn't solve anything; this she learned and understood thanks to Kushina. There was no use hiding from the truth: she didn't have a choice. To be certain that Naruto would become safe, he had to be adopted as Arashi Senju.

However, there was no rush in signing the papers. She at least persuaded the Hokage to have this bit of leverage. It just didn't feel right to make decisions on a child's life without their consent. And adopting Naruto now would be like stabbing Kushina in the back. She needed consent, if not Kushina then the child at least; his decision had as much weight as his mother. This had to be for the best to all involved, and this couldn't happen if the boy disagreed to their requests. She was half-worried Hiruzen-sensei would try his nifty persuasion technique—it always worked with her and her team, even when they had been trained to be resistant to psychological battles.

But what really had Tsunade worried was breaking this news to Naruto. How exactly could she tell a five-year-old child that he would not be seeing his mother for a long time, that she is sick and seeing him (normal mode or Minato-lookalike mode, neither mattered) would undoubtedly make it worse? How could she tell Naruto that he won't be himself anymore, where a redhead he had been, he is now a blond Namikaze?

Naruto was too young to comprehend the situation's severity, to adapt to the conditions he would be forced to go through. Back to about delaying the adoption, it was selfish—it seemed that way to Tsunade, anyway—but it was a request she made to keep her conscience clean somewhat. It was up to Naruto to decide on what he wanted, but her conscience had other ideas. Her logical mind, partnered with conscience, reiterated that Naruto was still a child, innocent and knew no better, and when the time came for him to understand the long term effects of that decision he made when he was five, it would be too late to do anything to change things, and so only regret awaited him in his future.

This was why she didn't think more than she had to. The guilt might accumulate and she could end up getting cold feet. That mustn't happen. Despite the split in her mind's contradicting opinions, to back down now would be unthinkable. It would be like she presented her godson to the slaughterhouse.

She worked her way under the sheets and her head rested on a pillow. A few sniffs later, she cuddled the pillow, seeking comfort in the scent of her husband. She willed for sleep to claim her, and this time it came easily, like receiving a post-coital caress from a lover, from Jiraiya. Her worries were not yet over, but at least for this night, she was granted a moment of reprieve from her hectic ninja life, where her sleep was as she wanted it, dreamless and steady.

By nine o'clock the next morning, she felt better. She then spent the rest of her morning eating breakfast with Chiyome and catching a few more Z's while her daughter was out looking for her playmate—Sasuke. The adoption papers still lingered in her head somewhere, but they were bumped down from the priority list.

Life has its twists and turns, but on that morning, Tsunade couldn't describe it anything more than normal.

* * *

It was a strange sight to see in the lobby of Konoha General Hospital that afternoon, but because the lobby was currently occupied by a myriad of civilians, just a few ninjas here and there, Kakashi was able to pass the room and towards the reception desk as easy as channeling chakra. What made this a strange sight, however, was the bouquet of flowers the one-eyed jounin held in his hands. It was embarrassing enough that the florist was of the gossipy variety—he probably shouldn't wait long before the rumors spread like crazy—and her interrogative gaze toppled the embarrassment with disconcertment. He was at least thankful that the florist had enough tact to not ask a thing (his glare might've had something to do with it, the kind that literally screams "DON'T ASK!"), but it also meant that the story would find itself a lot more twisted than what he tried to imagine.

He didn't even bother keeping her silent; the rumor mill always found ways to squeeze out the juicy bits in every person's affair, and his status as 'single ninja' since the start of his career made his appearance in the hospital lobby, clearly visiting a female patient with that bouquet, a very curious event to investigate.

Once he made it to the center of the lobby, he said to the receptionist, "I'm here to visit Kurenai Yuuhi."

Konoha General Hospital took pride in being a Class-A public service institute, and this was achieved not only from a dedicated staff (most trained under Tsunade Senju), but also from very organized logbooks. Every guest wanting to visit a patient had to first login here at the main lobby, receive a visitor's pass, and must logout when their visitation was over. This might be a little extreme for a hospital, but KGH admitted more ninjas than civilians since its founding. Espionage missions could have assassins entering as a guest and kill their target with close to no difficulty. If the assassin was crafty enough, the death could even be blamed on the illness or condition that put the patient there in the first place. Another type of espionage mission, if the enemy ninjas were willing to take the huge risk involved, was close to what was referred to as "grave digging," only they steal the body before it actually entered its grave. This spells disaster to corpses in the morgue carrying Bloodline Limits. Security _had_ to be enforced. And this might not have been possible if it hadn't been for Tsunade stating these cracks in their defenses two decades before. This got the people talking, but there weren't enough votes to implement it. It was only due to two separate incidents of Kumo trying to steal the Byakugan were her suggestions realized.

Kakashi took the visitor's pass from the receptionist's hands and looped it over his head. He thanked her with a bow and sauntered to the stairs. He had been to her room so many times that he could walk all the way there blindfolded. One time, he tried counting his steps from the entrance to his destination, but he lost count when she met him almost halfway, and by then he forgot all about counting. Each and every time he came to visit, there was always something interesting going on in this hospital. Whether it'd be children playing quietly or a cranky old man being wheeled in the hallway and speaking in rapid succession of words that the meaning in them seemed to have lost understanding—in other, harsher, words, the old guy was talking gibberish with no teeth. Kakashi knew in his mind that today wouldn't be any different.

He reached the third floor and, as always, he peered both left and right before marching forward. A guard stationed near the operating room nodded politely at him as he passed. Kakashi turned right in an intersection and left in the next, and kept going until he reached the door adorned with the number **323** in fake gold plating. A clipboard and the patient's name were hanging on the right side.

_**Kurenai Yuuhi**_

The door did not intimidate him. The number did not intimidate him (_are you sure about that, Kakashi?_). The name plate did not intimidate him. In all likelihood his visitation could go off without a hitch; he only had to turn the knob and push it inward. A typical greeting would pass his lips ("Yo!") along with his trademark eye-smile. They never failed him before. But what _was_ failing him was his confidence. His legs felt rooted to the spot and his free hand stayed at his side, unable to take the thought-out action but remain idle like a dead limb. What was his hesitation? How could a simple visit be this difficult for him to push forward? He had gone to this room plenty of times, ever since the patient had been admitted to the hospital. Why hesitate now?

He looked at the bouquet in his hand, an assorted set of flowers colored in red, yellow, and pink. The set wasn't picked at random, although a florist might have something else to say to that. He picked each and every flower with the thought of how the receiver could react to them being banded together. His fellow nins didn't know this, but Kurenai had this habit of examining miniscule details deemed not so important that one would lose sight of the whole picture. It was an OCD of sorts, the perfectionist kind, where everything was orderly but at the same time chaotic in its own unique way. She had explained this to him once before, but such things went too beyond for his mind to comprehend thoroughly, so he just accepted it as her quirk. Every ninja living long enough had a quirk, some were hindrances, some were helpful, and a quite a few were neutral, neither helping nor hindering. Kurenai's quirk categorized itself in the second, enhancing her eye for detail whenever she tried to make a field-sized genjutsu. This knack for chaotic perfection also helps her with formulating and casting hard-to-break genjutsu. It was in the miniscule details she emphasized, but she never once neglected the general details. Perfection, all right.

That was why he chose these flowers. The rooms in KGH were notoriously bleak and have this profound feeling of purity and isolation. Bleak can mean serenity or peace to others, maybe even perfection, but to Kurenai a lack of color means a wrong sense of perfection. Her compulsions—and in extension, her peace of mind—thrived in bringing a bit of imperfection in the world. She learned from a young age that there was no such thing as perfection; it was a mere word to describe a certain boundary of human comprehension. White cannot always be white. There should be parts—even parts that are atomic in size—in weaker tint or hue, shattering the constant and verifying the illusion. His last visit had included this sermon, so he decided after he left that he'd do something about it. She'd be staying for another three days and he wanted the experience of her stay more bearable for her. They both hated staying in hospitals.

But still, why the hesitation?

_Because it's the same room_, a part of him whispered in his head, the part who remembered everything clearly, the part who wished to face the memories without fear. That whisper gradually a got louder for every iteration, like the mantra of fanatical cultists. He couldn't ignore this voice because it spoke no bullshit like a cultist, no preaches like a cultist, just the cold and painful truth.

"Rin," he murmured to the door, and in his peripheral vision, the nameplate reverted to the black under white lettering the hospital had used years ago, the printed name morphing the hazy memory into hazy reality. His old teammate, the second friend he had let down, died inside this room, her face—

"Oh! Scarecrow-dude!" a voice to his left exclaimed.

Kakashi closed his eyes, the nameplate and the distorted face banished back into the deep depths of his forbidden memories. He didn't want to think back on that day, more so now than ever before. He never told Kurenai about this room and would like it to stay that way. Memories were just that: memories. Trying to uncover a buried part of one's life never ended happy, because they had been buried with good reason.

While he was thankful for this momentous return to actual reality—lest he lost himself into the sands of time and relive that day where he saw the life in Rin's eyes wilt and disappear and all that remained were the dead eyes of a doll—he could do without the annoying nickname. And he knew only one person who could call him that and get away with it scot-free.

"Mitarashi-san," he greeted, and the girl immediately frowned.

"Didn't I tell you before? Call me Anko already!"

"We're not that close," he retorted.

"Sure we are. You treated me dango last week."

"That was extortion, not treating."

"Don't they mean the same thing?"

"I have to wonder how you could make friends with that kind of attitude."

"So I'm a little socially awkward, big deal." She crossed her arms. "I don't see you having many friends, too."

"I keep to myself most of the time. I was Wolf in ANBU for a reason."

"The lone white wolf in legends, huh," Anko mused. "Incidentally, doesn't the legend often have the wolf partnered with a human girl?" She then smiled seductively. "What do you think, Kakashi-kun?"

"I think you're taking the symbol of my ANBU mask too seriously. Being labeled a lone wolf should be reason enough, thank you."

Knowing that he wouldn't take the bait—as usual—she quickly recovered from the letdown. "If you say so," she said nonchalantly.

"You coming to visit Kurenai?"

"In a bit. I still have two more hours before my shift ends."

"Wait," he interjected, "you're working in the hospital?"

She nodded. "What's with that look?" she asked heatedly.

"Nothing," he answered, "just thinking why you're helping here. It's not your field of expertise, shall we say."

"No doubt," she agreed wholeheartedly.

_Then why are you working here in the first place?_

"First day on the job?" he asked.

"Tenth."

"Don't lie. I never saw you at all."

"Maybe because you've been coming here about four in the afternoon. I take the morning shift most of the time, and today's a special case because I'm taking another guy's shift."

"Now you're beginning to form a pattern of contradictions. The Mitarashi-san I know is not a morning person and cares little about stuff outside her interest, most especially taking someone else's work shift."

". . . you just insulted me, didn't you?"

"A mere observation. No insult intended."

"Intentionally or not, you still hurt my feelings."

". . . okay, who are you and what did you do to Mitarashi-san?"

"I took her soul and decided to right the many wrongs of her life, starting with volunteer work and tormenting the people who _butt into other people's business_." She emphasized this with cracking her knuckles. "Care for a demonstration, Scarecrow?"

He waved his left hand dismissively at her, not wanting a repeat performance when she learned a new grappling move from Gai—he'd rather forget that his body could be bent that way. "No need. No need. I'll take your word for it."

"Liar. Well, I gotta go. Tell Kurenai I'll be visiting her later, okay?"

"All right."

She nodded at him once and walked on by. Kakashi didn't watch her once she was out of his field of vision. Anko was a very private person, and the people she trusts in this village could be counted in fingers. That included him and Kurenai, and the trust she placed in him was more out of a strange succession of events that somehow made him earn it. He didn't want to look at a gift horse in the mouth and hurt the girl's feelings at the same time, so he treasured the trust she placed in him. One of these gestures of 'trust me and, in turn, I trust you' was him not looking over his shoulder.

With Anko Mitarashi's reputation slandered by the defection of her upstanding jounin instructor since her genin days, it had been hard to put trust into other people. She had been betrayed in the most grueling way possible, and her search for deception in the faces and actions of people was bordering paranoia. His knowledge on her mental health was nil due to Tsunade's firm and stubborn respect to the privacy of her patients' medical records. He trusted Tsunade enough to let the matter drop. But he went for an alternate source of info: Anko's best friend, Kurenai. The genjutsu mistress was an untapped pool of knowledge about the snake mistress, but even she kept secrets that could only be shared between the two women. As far as Kakashi could discern from Kurenai's own observations, Anko wanted people to trust her without caution. Even a harmless action, neither done by intent or suspicion, could mean a certain level of distrust Anko's little heart might not take.

That was why he kept his stare forward. If he had looked over his shoulder, Anko might take that as a sign of distrust because he had left his back open to her, so therefore, it might look like he was watching for backstab, despite the many flaws in that thought. For one, they were in a hospital hallway, which was guarded by ninjas twenty-four-seven. Anko might have gotten away with hurting him, but she would become vulnerable to other ninjas who could react at the attempted murder in a heartbeat and leave no prisoner in the aftermath. Anko was a woman of logic, even when the bordering paranoia eroded most of her rationality, but when it came to trust, logic found no place in it. Like what Kurenai had opined him, Anko was mentally ill but not enough to procure medical intervention. The best medicine she needed at that moment was time . . . and the people she trusts.

Kakashi knew more than anyone the pain of losing a precious person from becoming a victim in their own delusion.

Unseen from him, because of the form of trust he tried to convey to a woman who had trust issues, Anko looked back at him as she turned the corner, and muttered, "Idiot, I can feel your pity a mile away. I don't need it, but I sure as hell want it." She sighed. "Better than glares, anyway."

* * *

Another five minutes passed before Kakashi pooled enough courage and determination to place his hand on the doorknob, turn it, and push it open. He was assaulted with a wide range of dazzling white colors—the white walls, the white ceiling, the white-tiled floor, the white curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze with the window half open. Kurenai was on the bed, a pocket book nestled in her petite, delicate fingers. Her eyes never left the words in the pages as her eyes scanned through the rows in rapid pace. If she had registered that someone had come into the room, she didn't show it.

He knew Kurenai better than that. She was probably in the middle of the novel's climax and couldn't stop reading until she reached the end of a chapter or two. It didn't matter who the visitor was; she was always enraptured into the mystical world of stories lurking within the paragraphs and words and letters of books. He wasn't the least bit offended by having her prioritize a book against him, because he was usually the same way, getting carried away into the mythical land of fantasy and leaving behind the real world, if only for a few dozen or so more pages.

He grabbed the chair positioned at the foot of the bed and lifted it towards the bed's left side. Once he sat himself down, he watched her intently. He could see a cacophony of emotions surfacing in the forefront of her face, observing every wrinkle at the bridge of her nose when she frowned, the tiny dimple on her left cheek when she smiled, the pursing of her lips when she went through a mysterious passage, the widening of her eyes when the plot twist came along at the end of the chapter. He watched them all, barely making a sound or uttering a word. Boredom did not come to him, not when something so entertaining was presented in a face adorned by incomparable beauty and grace. It was her eyes that captured him more than any other physical appeal she had in her arsenal. Whenever he looked in them, they reflected the soul of a kindred spirit, one who understood, one who might not be strong in control but tough in will.

"You could drill holes with your stare, Kakashi," Kurenai said nonchalantly, eyes never leaving the page, never halting from their repetitive right-to-left movement.

Caught red-handed, it seemed. He just hoped that the red didn't also infect his cheeks—oh wait, he was wearing his mask.

He coughed lightly while looking away. He chanced a glance back at the woman from the corner of his eyes, and she was still reading. Two minutes pass in this silence, broken only by the fluttering of the curtains, the flipping of pages, and Kakashi's quiet foot-tapping.

Then Kurenai folded a corner of the page, producing a dog-eared effect, closed the book, and placed it on her right nightstand. "Sorry if I didn't greet you sooner."

"You were busy," he replied. "Didn't want to disturb your reading."

"Still, you could've at least said something to bring my attention. I only realized it was you when you sat down on the chair."

"Might distract you from your reading, regardless. I know how annoying that can be when you're in the middle of reading the climax, the most interesting part of a novel."

"The man writes great thrillers. You should try him sometime."

"I'll stick to my genre of choice, though, but thanks."

Kurenai shook her head, and a curved lip expressed a smile, despite her desire to roll her eyes. "Is there a reason why you revel in smut? Are you compensating for an experience you most obviously lack?"

". . . what experience?" Though he was feeling a bad vibe from her enigmatic smile, he still took the bait and asked.

"Sex."

"Wow, you actually said it."

"You've heard more vulgarity coming from other women's mouths, though they're actually women from your books and not real life."

"You're forgetting about Anko."

"Did you do her?"

Kakashi grimaced. "Please, don't say disgusting things."

Her eyes narrowed. "You find that disgusting, huh?"

"I don't mean to offend or be biased in anyway. I just don't see myself doing"—he coughed—"_that_ with Mitarashi-san, of all people."

"She has a crush on you, you know."

"Don't put guilt into the mix. And besides, I can't answer her puppy love if I already have someone I like." He quickly shut his mouth; he hadn't meant to say that last bit.

"Oh? So . . . you've already have someone you like. I see, I see." She smiled wistfully. "Kakashi, the flowers?"

"Ah, oh, right. Here you go."

"Ahaa~" she gleefully uttered as she hovered her nose on top of each flowers, sniffing them. "A wild assortment of colors. Just what this room needed. I'm surprised you actually listened when I rambled yesterday."

"You sounded really into it. I guess it stuck in my head this time."

"Maybe. You've always been forgetful." She grabbed the empty vase on the bedside table and gently inserted the bouquet into it. "Thanks for the gift and for visiting."

"It's nothing. After what happened, I believe I owe you."

"Kakashi, I just got hit by some flying debris. It's nothing lethal. Actually, I'd be ashamed if I died from something like that."

"You weren't hospitalized because of that, and you know it," he replied vehemently.

And she nodded. The official story for her staying in the hospital was due to injuries from the Second Coming, but unofficially she was detained here for testing. Kakashi was also kept out of the loop until his frequent visits extended to sticking his nose into the backdoors—figuratively, of course. He pieced enough of the puzzle to confirm that Kurenai really was being tested for harmful side effects from overexposure to demonic chakra, and Kurenai deemed it useless to even lie when he confronted her about it.

"Look on the bright side: I'll be leaving in a few more days."

"They haven't done anything—"

"Kakashi, they're not molesters. And the ones who've seen me naked are all women."

". . . they could be lesbians."

"Are you really that worried about me?" she asked with utmost curiosity, before that feeling morphed into the teasing smile she adorned earlier. "Or are you just jealous that they saw me in all my glory and you didn't?"

"Don't be stupid." He sighed. "What's with this sultry attitude all of a sudden? You're beginning to sound a lot like Mitarashi-san."

"I just wanted to see if I can get a reaction out of you somehow." She shrugged. "Your composure is a lot stronger than I give credit. As expected of a masked ninja."

"Can I ask why?"

"Yes, you can, and because you've always come into this room looking all cool and composed like. Too perfect in my eyes."

"I often wonder if your fascination with chaotic perfection is getting worse every day."

"Who knows? It's probably the side effect those men in suits were talking about." A strong gale entered the hospital room, pushing the curtains far inward that they were almost parallel to the floor. The wind spread and managed to blow a few locks of Kurenai's hair to the front of her face, forcing her to peel it back. The whole spectacle left Kakashi a little dazzled at her unintended display of feminine appeal. Asuma once remarked that he, Kakashi, had a thing for black-haired women, and even though he had denied it vehemently to both the chain-smoker and the grinning beast in green spandex, it was actually true.

He averted his eyes. "Why are you looking for chaos in perfection?"

"Huh?"

"You've always gone on about that the world doesn't work on perfection, that it actually revolved in chaos. Perfection is only a word, you said. My question is that why you want to search for chaos. Shouldn't you be satisfied with the way things are?"

"That's not a good way to look at life, Kakashi," she retorted, expressionless. Her eyes were neither benign nor malignant, just two red pools of indifference. Fortunately, that stare wasn't directed at him but the wall in front of her. "The world is filled with mysteries. And I'm just an observer of the universe. Whatever I can do now and later are irrelevant things compared to the many actions of chaos within this universe."

"That doesn't answer my question, though."

"I know it doesn't, but I just don't have any other explanation. It's the same as asking me, 'why were you born?' Do you really think I can have an answer for that?"

"No," he admitted, and said nothing else.

"Maybe it's because I want to see more chaos."

"Huh?"

"'Always, beneath every apparent chaos, order waits to be revealed.' Father used to say that to me when I was little. But I don't really believe it. The world revels in chaos; order is just something to negate chaos."

Kakashi understood little of Kurenai's thought patterns when it involved the logic behind her OCD, but again, he accepted it simply as her quirk. There should be no underlying meaning within her ramblings or whenever she started talking philosophically, and there should be no use overthinking about something that seemed pretty much a way for her to cope with life. Humans are, after all, naturally curious creatures, wanting to learn more and more, from how things work to how the universe came about. In that light, Kurenai wasn't any different from other people who had their own conclusions about the universe's inner workings, as if their word carried more validity than other rambles of other people.

Kakashi spent his afternoon with Kurenai, inside that hospital room, secret smiles and secret looks often done by both parties without the other knowing—at least that was what they told themselves. Still, it seemed too early for either one to be true to what their hearts were telling them, but at least they were progressing. Slowly, but surely.

Maybe that was what they intended in the first place.

* * *

Naruto had little time to think over what he was about to do because hesitation was not permitted, lest he ended up being skewered by the pointy end of a creature's spear. After departing with his clone to find an entranceway beyond the chakra-proof wall, it took him a while to find it. His walk was overall uneventful, but at least it wasn't wasted with nothing to ponder about. The dreary, bleak place he was in had been circulating in his mind for some time. It didn't waver after ten minutes, which was more or less the time it took for Naruto to move onto another topic of interest. Rather, it just kept coming back whenever he tried to think of something else.

After an hour of walking through soft, cracking snow, he had found the entranceway he was looking for and, like the man he was known to be, didn't stop to formulate his next step. Caution was pushed aside for recklessness, and Naruto didn't give a damn. He usually winged things and he was still here with all his limbs intact and his head on straight—exempting the fact that he was _dead_ already.

But this time, maybe winging it was his most ill choice to date. The entrance was a large arch, its peak reaching the top of the towering wall, its width from the ground no more than thirty feet. It was also deserted, no guards or security as far as the eye could see, despite the ever-present mist dampening the vision of even the keenest scouts. The whole feel of the arch should've tipped him off, but he had been too eager to get out of the snowstorm to pay attention to his caution and his danger instinct.

It would've been his downfall if Naruto wasn't a war veteran and one of the few who could go toe-to-toe with a teleporter like Madara Uchiha. After years of warfare and stalemates between him and the last Uchiha in existence, Naruto had honed his tracking skills that it'd be difficult (but not impossible) for someone to get the jump on him. It didn't always work because he didn't have enough time to master this newfound skill. Still, it was a quicker response stimulus than his sixth sense in fighting.

But having it trained was more than enough for him to quickly roll on his left before a hulking mass of white descended onto the ground he had been on moments before. There was a thunderous crack as snow and dust flew through the air. And though the soft snow beneath him absorbed most of the tremor caused by the white mass, Naruto quickly inferred that it would've been enough to kill him if he hadn't dodged.

"And here I thought I could get a break from the fighting," he murmured, and then straightened up from his roll. He readied a kunai in each hand, holding the right one in reverse, and took a taijutsu stance.

Two seconds passed. Three. Four. Six. Ten. The dust and snow had come and gone, clearing the obstruction they made on the hole, but nothing was coming out of it.

"Shit!" His realization came a second too late when the white thing emerged behind him, scattering a flurry of snow from its emersion, a perfect camouflage for its mien. Naruto's danger instincts flared and took control the instant something thrust into his head's location. Distracted by the mist and the flying snow, he didn't notice the second thrust after he dodged the first. Luckily, it was not pointy, unlike the previous, which he escaped lethal harm but still came out of it with a graze on the side of his right temple.

The second blow pushed him towards the wall, negating the chakra he generated on his back to soften the impact. His spine felt as if it was on fire, and the back of his head was in no better shape. He shook his head a few times, trying to clear the momentary dizziness. He was most possibly concussed, but he didn't want that to stop him.

He reacquainted himself with caution, maintaining his cool while scanning her surroundings. He had lost his left kunai in the confrontation and so, produced another, this one now in the same reverse grip as his right. In normal instances like this, the best tactic for now would be to defend and wait for an opportunity to strike back, but Naruto could already tell that was a foolhardy notion. With his back to the wall, he at least removed half of the beast's range of surprise attacks. Even then, he still had a hundred-eighty degrees of open field to defend, and with the white thing's impressive speed and sly use of the surrounding mist and snow for camouflage, it'd be futile to try and defend. The best he could hope for was put on an offense the moment the beast decided to attack.

This was why his kunai were in reverse-grip; his taijutsu stance had been through a bit of an overhaul nine months before. The standard kunai grip was mainly used for defense, and the reverse grip for offense. If he wanted to lean more on offense than defense, he'd have his right kunai (the dominant hand) on reverse, the left on standard. He rarely utilized the double reverse grip, which was reserved for quasi-kamikaze tactics.

This suited Naruto just fine, though. What's a battle without taking risks anyway?

He breathed in and out, a cloud of breath whistling out of his mouth. His eyes narrowed, detecting an anomaly in the mist. Trying to discern the creature's location through sound was a bust now that the snowstorm's wind had picked up, howling through his ears and making visibility much worse. He kept alert, sticking his back to the wall but giving enough space to make for a hasty retreat. The cold wind coagulated bits of his blood and lessened the bleeding of his temple wound, but he noted this offhandedly. His main attention was to his surroundings. Something didn't fit.

The monster was not attacking. He couldn't make a counter without it making the first move, and more than a minute had already passed. Surely the monster didn't think that he'd die from a single blunt thrust like that? No, whether or not the monster was underestimating him, it showed enough intelligence to procure a second point of attack when the first one wouldn't connect. It should have enough sense to check on the body before returning to its post and guard this archway again in its post above—

_Fuck! Above!_

Eyes widening, he panned his view up just in time to see the white mass stalking the inner curve of the arch, closing in on the spot that was right above him. Excellent position for an encore slamming performance, one that Naruto would rather not repeat. He thought of wall-walking and confronting the beast, but that was impossible with the chakra-proof material encompassing the whole structure. It left him to wonder how exactly that white monster was able to stick up there without chakra.

His wandering mind was put on hold when the beast became aware that it had been spotted and had decided to change its mode of attack by diving into the arch. _That_ didn't seem physically possible, but the beast made it look like an everyday occurrence. So what did that make of the monster guardian, an entity created by this chakra-proof structure?

The world was making less sense by the minute. First chakra-repelling walls and now sentient monsters emerging from solid walls. What next?

His danger senses flared once more and he ducked and rolled forward. He twisted his body so that it faced the wall when his roll was done. And his eyes lay witness to three white monsters emerging from the wall's flat surface like zombies digging out of the soil above their graves. His close proximity with them made the sight of them much clearer and grotesque. Naruto was too naïve to think of these creatures as if they were living, breathing organisms subjected to laws of evolution and order. What he was seeing were _machines_ of destruction and chaos. He didn't know why he began to think of them as machines—they were far from inorganic, despite their ghost-like intangibility with the walls—but it seemed most fitting. Better than calling them puppets, anyway.

Their heads were swollen and bulbous, features of a face nowhere to be seen. Four tentacles were each shooting out of their napes, wiggling around like panicking octopi. They had four arms, the bottom pair small and deformed, the top pair thin and sharp, almost like the blades of rapiers—ideal for thrusting. They also had tails, bony and lizard-like (will it still move after being severed from the body?) , and their legs were similar to that of horses. Naruto couldn't tell if these things had hooves or not, but he wasn't about to stick his neck to cater his curiosity. He didn't want to end up like the proverbial cat, after all.

The machines twisted their necks in synchronized movements, cracking and grinding bones together. The one on the left stopped, ground its rapier blades together—sparks forming from the intense force and friction—and immediately charged, both blades lunging. With his kunai still in reverse grips, Naruto faced the monster with no note for defense. This was to be a clear kamikaze moment, but hopefully his luck would pull through and get him out of this unscathed.

It seemed like wishful thinking, but maybe Lady Luck was looking out for him at that very moment.

With arms in the X pattern, the pommels of the kunai touching his shoulders, he ducked as he sprinted with all he got. He channeled chakra to his soles, making sure that a weak spot on the ground didn't suddenly depress and slowed his increasing speed—this had to be perfect, no distractions, no foul-ups. If there were, he'd be dead.

The machine's double thrust was unoriginal and unstylish; it looked like it was putting its arms forward. When Naruto sprinted towards the machine, it didn't react but kept charging like a bull that saw red. They were closing in—eight yards, five, four, three—and just as the rapier blades were about to pierce Naruto's shoulders, he blitzed into action.

The X pattern of his arms swiftly changed position, both arms returning to their side of the body. And midway through their move, Naruto tightened his grip on the kunai. The sides of his twin weapon of choice collided with the sides of the rapier blades in a dazzling ignition of fire sprites dancing in the snowy air, heat and cold fighting a battle within the bigger battle. He didn't stop there; with the momentum still in his arms, he kept pushing them outward, intent on widening the open chest the machine left behind. He couldn't waste precious time with a smile, a thought of victory, or a feeling of satisfaction. He was now in the moment, and in that moment the decisive action that could put an end to this one battle had to be done.

Because the organic's horse legs were thick and muscular, his sandal had a firm foothold when he stepped on one. As he pushed forward, kunai and rapier amplifying the amount of friction sparks in his wake, he brought his knee to the beast's head. Hardened shinobi bone met with the brittle, metallic-feeling of bone. Between the screeches of metal and bony metal, there was a resounding crack coming from where Naruto kneed the bastard. Still no time for distractions or foul-ups. Just one more step and it was time to back away.

He finished off the maneuver with stabbing his right kunai straight into the side of the machine's head. Naruto liked to hope that this would be enough to stop the beast's in their tracks, for no living being could survive a direct blow to the head, but his like had no hold on the strict laws of reality, and he had already faced the fact himself that these abominations didn't have to obey such laws. Death, it seemed to him, was not a problem for these beings. Death comes for every living thing in the world, and these abominations surely are not real living things. They were organic, yes, and moving, yes, but neither translated to life. They were called machines because their creation was unnatural, just artificial constructs from the mind of a deranged guy who liked to play God.

Naruto kicked the beast's head one final time and pushed himself far, far away. He rolled on his back as his feet met with the soft snow. The growing distance dimmed his view of the upcoming spectacle, but that was all right. All of this was, after all, just a distraction. He didn't stay to watch; he turned around and bolted into the inner sanctum lying beyond the other end of the archway.

The white creature didn't know what was coming, but it at least knew that their target was running away. It turned around to warn its brethren when a sizzling noise resonated from the embedded kunai. Naruto's studies of fuinjutsu came with it a few leaps and bounds in shinobi technology. One of them happens to be the use of exploding tags, where he no longer a strip of paper tied to the pommel hole on a kunai. He instead reconstructed the bombing mechanism program of the explosion seals into very hilt of the kunai, therefore camouflaging it among the dozens a shinobi would throw while in battle. Their enemy wouldn't know there was a tagged kunai until it was too late.

His ingenuity saved lives and surprised his foes. And he had once more done the second as the white monster was engulfed in a searing blob of heat, fire, and KABOOM!

* * *

Out of all the things he'd see inside those walls, what was there was nowhere near what he had hypothesized. He expected something like a prison of sorts or a tower, where he had to climb a hundred sets of stairs to reach the top. Fantasy had more credibility than reality—to Naruto, at least. But this viewpoint only came about because he was more or less unsatisfied at the results of his hard work. What was really inside these walls was nothing more than a crummy old shack that looked to be in great disrepair, almost falling apart.

He remembered the old fuinjutsu phrase (Never judge a book by its cover), but that didn't mean it had to apply with things outside fuinjutsu. To Naruto, the first impression meant everything and nothing could be more presenting than something quite superficial that it could be sweet, succulent candy for the eyes.

But no, this was not to be. All his eyes could savor was the taste of a crummy shack standing in the middle of a depressing snowstorm.

His afterlife sucked.

"Can't go back now, though." He had gone too far to just give up now. He made the decision to move on, so he was adamant in moving on.

He approached the shack with little caution, tried the doorknob, found it unlocked, and opened it. There was nothing inside. It was dark and cold, and the wood was moist and aged. When he looked close enough, he realized that it wasn't the mist or the snow making this color, but that the wood was tinted with a natural ash gray color.

"A very gray world. What's next, Gray-men?"

He hoped not.

Entering the threshold of the shack, he looked around. The darkness hid nothing as light coming from the doorway illuminated almost every part of the single room. There was really nothing here.

_Must look underneath the underneath_, he thought determinedly. He searched deeper, checking the floorboards, knocking on the walls, examining every nook and cranny of the place, but he still found nothing. If that wasn't enough, when he decided that this really was just a crummy old shack in the middle of nowhere, the door slammed shut. Enveloped in darkness, Naruto couldn't see, but he didn't panic. He estimated the position of the door and moved towards it.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Who's out there?"

Someone had closed the door; it couldn't be the wind because the door opened inwards not outwards, where the sporadic wind had more chances in pushing the door. His steps sounded loud and hollow inside this enclosed room, and every time he neared the door (or where it should be), his shoulders began to sag and sag. It was too soon for his night vision to come about—everything was still black—but the darkness disconcerted him somewhat. As if it were . . . alive and . . . watching him.

It took a while still for Naruto to realize that he had been walking for too long. The area of the shack was small, and he could easily traverse to the other side within eight steps, but he estimated his steps to exceed twenty. His mind had been preoccupied over the possibility of a white beast trapping him inside this place that he let this simple fact almost evade him. He stopped walking, but kept his hand out in front of him. With a simple surge of chakra concentrating on his open palm, he began spinning and molding it. The result was instantaneous when a majestic sphere of pure spinning chakra floated on his palm. The Rasengan's display was not only magnificent but it also presented a source of light within the dark room. But what illumination it tried to give out never made it past Naruto's arm, it seemed, because the room was still obstructed by the ever-present black. Not even the floor, when he crouched to check how far the Rasengan could illuminate, could be seen. The only explanation would be that the floor suddenly morphed from old, creaky gray wood to old, creaky ebony—an ebony too dark to see contours and gaps, as if nothing else were darker than itself.

"Just what—"

His words died in his throat when his ears picked up the grinding sound. Grinding bone against bone. Steel against steel. Both behind him.

He acted on instinct, letting this basic trait of early human society convey onto him what those who sneak up on a shinobi end up like. With the Rasengan still spinning strong in his hand, he faced the white machine—sparks still flying from its rapier grinding; an excellent target detector—and thrust the sphere into the belly of the beast.

But nothing happened.

Because the creature had emerged from the chakra-proof wall, it too should have the same properties. Naruto realized this seconds after the Rasengan dissipated from his hands and the used chakra retreated back into his coils, but these precious seconds meant sufficient time for a counterattack. He felt nothing other than a stinging sensation on his left chest. Without the Rasengan, his eyes—night vision absent—only saw darkness. But he coughed and something started to push out of his throat and mouth, like vomit. It might be blood; it might be spit. Either way, he knew what this stinging meant and what would happen next.

He didn't give a damn.

He wasn't giving up without a fight.

Naruto pulled away from the monster and the blade pierced into his chest, but the monster proved tenacious when its two arms grabbed ahold of Naruto's and delivered the second rapier into his right chest. He spat out more blood as the stinging enhanced into a terrifying wave of unadulterated pain. Screams never left his mouth as it was too busy with coughing out blood, but the grunts in between the coughs were probably adequate in conveying the level of his pain. He still tried to fight back, but the monster—seemingly aware of the redhead's stubbornness—twisted the rapiers embedded in his chest faster than snapping fingers.

The jolt and the excruciation blacked out his consciousness, which was probably the best mercy he had in a while. However, he didn't know if his entering unconsciousness meant death or just sleep. And for some reason, he found himself not caring. The pain was gone, his efforts were wasted, and his mind was collapsing into the sandman's embrace. His last thoughts were of his counterpart, his mother, and even Rambo. The ones he had left behind. He promised he'd come back. It had been a promise of a lifetime!

So why? Why—

The call of the sandman could no longer be ignored. And whether or not he'd see the light once his eyes closed themselves, it mattered not. He just wanted to say one last thing to the people he loved, even if they could not hear him from where he stood.

_I'm sorry._

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

If anybody is curious to know, I got the chapter title from a manga title—and that's what I really mean, because I first discovered it over a year before the anime came out, so there! For those uneducated in the world of the 2D-Girl conquest god, watch the anime or read the manga. Elsie will approve. Keima will be indifferent, too busy with his galge.

One thing I need to point out. This chapter was supposed to have another scene after the last one, but because this was becoming as long as it was, I decided to just put it into the next chapter. This way, I could introduce the new canon character without ending it up in another cliffhanger. Expect the unexpected, guys. Hehehe.


	11. The Fate of Naruto Uzumaki

Date written: 29/05/11 – 11/06/11

Posted on FanFiction: 11/06/11

A/N: It's a raging quadruple eleven, guys. Don't get it? Let me clarify: I've finished and published Chapter **11** on the **11****th** of June in the year 20**11**. Yeah, I have nothing better to do after writing this, so I just point out what first came to mind. Problem? *Insert troll face*

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 11 ––**

**The Fate of Naruto Uzumaki**

When Naruto's mind awoken in its most plausible action in regards to the events pertaining to his loss of consciousness, he sat up with a scream. Dilated eyes unsuited to the mild glare coming from the fire in the bonfire, he closed them as quickly as when he opened them, which was then followed with a pained grunt. The pain in his chest, the pain in his eyes, the muscles in his arms and back protesting with such force that even the bones were joining in on tormenting him. Not one of them, however, could beat the pulsing piece of oblivion piercing his head called a migraine. He hadn't woken up feeling like shit since he had gone on a drinking spree with the other guys from the Rookie Nine, and he still thought that it was a great night to remember if he hadn't experienced a long blackout from the time he took a long swig from a bottle of imported liquor to the time he woke up pants-less on top a roof smelling like a woman in heat who was satiated.

He breathed deeply through his nose, entering and exiting. With the headache inducing another wave of pain into his innocent brain, his hands went out to try and nurse it with a soothing massage, although that'd help as much as planting a rock in soil and hope it'd grow into a tree. With nothing to support his torso from falling back onto the futon under him, he did so with much of his attention centered on the migraine. A loud groan escaped his lips, and it wouldn't be for another three minutes—the time it took for him to get used to the shattering pain—that he'd consider checking his surroundings. Naruto was at least certain there was a fire, and whoever made that fire wasn't him.

_Just what happened to me?_

His answer came in soft articulations of thought into visions projecting within his mentality. He remembered the white monsters—funny that he couldn't recall the physical details of the creatures, as if that part of his memory had been erased—and even the shack. The memory of being stabbed twice had come after reconstructing most of the events that played out before, and now he had a reason for why he was feeling so much like shit.

Naruto wanted to get up and find some answers—'Why haven't I died?' being the top question on his mind right now—but his body wouldn't let him. Whenever he'd try to sit back up, he couldn't find the strength to maintain balance and minimize the shaking of his arms. After two more attempts, he exhausted most of the energy stored in his system. Sleep was once more claiming him and its grip was too strong and large for his weakened state to counter. No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, his body had its own agendas and when it wanted sleep, it got sleep.

The next time his mind awoke, the splitting migraine diminished to a light buzz annoying the side of his head, the bandages on his torso (which he hadn't noticed the first time he awoke) felt like they were freshly wrapped around him, and the muscles in his arms felt stronger. He sat up, bones and muscles still protesting but their ferocity had become more tolerable, and squinted his eyes at the fire. He moved his sight away quickly lest his night vision were to disappear. Other than the fire and the futon he had been lying on, the room he was less detailed or, to be more precise, not detailed at all. Darkness loomed almost like shadowy veils shrouding him in a dome-shaped prison. It made him feel like a caged bird during lights out where a curtain was draped over the whole cage to simulate night. The sense of isolation gripped his being, and if not for the fire, the unrelenting darkness might have gotten to him.

The feeling in his legs was responsive and he tested them out. His knees braced his weight when he kneeled, and his feet became burdened with the weight when he stood straight. Although he felt a little wobbly—drunk and experiencing a hangover seemed the best explanation . . . if he really _did_ drink vast amounts of alcohol in the past 24 hours—he stayed on his two feet. His ears immediately picked up a foreign sound coming from somewhere, but unsure of the origin due to the echoes. There was movement from his left, his eyes tracing the person before they had come out of the darkness completely. It was a man, six feet in height, with red hair cascading down his head to the level of his chin. He was garbed in a black cloak with silver tomoe earrings and, though it was a little obscured from the high collar, a necklace with silver tomoe as well.

Even from afar, Naruto could already feel some kind of hidden power from the man. Not enough to set off warning bells, but he still had to be wary. He doubted this place was outside the inner mindscape, so this person might turn hostile like those . . . those . . . like those _what_? What was he referring to? He knew he had been thinking about whatever-it-was before, when he first woke up in this place, but for the life of him he couldn't even remember the tiniest knowledge about them—as if they had been erased from his mentality.

_A mind wipe?_

It didn't seem far off. And he already had a suspect to accuse.

"It's good that you are awake," the redheaded man said, strolling out of the darkness. "I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't pull through, but it seemed that I have underestimated your potential, as many of your enemies have done in the past."

"Where am I?" Naruto asked. It was the very basic question and most often the first thing to ask when plunged into a situation like this, but the way the redhead was looking at him seemed as if he should've known this beforehand. Naruto didn't understand why.

The redhead walked close to the bonfire, where a small log lay just behind the fire from Naruto's position. He sat down slowly, like an old man awaiting the inevitable spinal crack to resound, and intertwined his fingers next to his chest.

"Before I answer your question, Naruto Uzumaki," he said, "you must, first, answer a question of my own. Fair?"

Grimly, Naruto nodded his agreement.

"What have you accomplished in life?"

Hesitating at the unexpected question, yet urging himself to answer it anyway, Naruto replied, "I saved the world from a maniac's plan for world domination."

"Ah, yes, Madara's Moon's Eye Plan." He nodded twice. "He seeks peace, but his methods do not coincide with his intent."

"I've answered your question, now answer mine."

"Very well. You are in the Sanctuary, Naruto Uzumaki. A sanctuary I have created long ago."

Naruto looked at the dome of blackness surrounding them. He liked to remark on how this could be regarded as a sanctuary, but he kept his silence. Even now, that sense of shrouded power so exponentially volatile and dangerous loomed over the cloaked man. Fear coursed in his veins, though they held little sway in his decision to not run his mouth. He needed more answers, and to get those answers he had to play with the man's rules, he wouldn't say questions that had little for him to gain other than useless information.

"Okay, my next question," Naruto said, "Who are you?"

The man separated his joined hands, dropping one while raising the other, with one finger pointed upwards. There was nothing above him, but Naruto already knew that. The finger moved and stopped till it pointed to the empty spot beside his seat on the log. The man smiled at Naruto.

"You're a guest, Naruto Uzumaki, and so I must retain etiquette and offer you a seat."

"No thanks," Naruto replied immediately. A closer proximity meant more vulnerability, and Naruto was unsure if this referred to him or the man.

"No, no, I insist. It must be uncomfortable for you to stand yet."

He was right, and Naruto damned him for it. His legs were already on the verge of collapse, and exhaustion was seeping his energy faster than he dared to estimate. At the rate this was going, he might end up falling on his butt in the middle of their conversation. But there was still that rebellious side of him that wanted him to stay strong and reject the offer once more.

"You cannot refuse this, Naruto Uzumaki." That sense of finality tipped the scales on his decision. It was the only choice for him to move forward, after all.

He took his seat with trepidation, steering his eyes away from the fire—he didn't like the look of it, for some reason. Instead, he observed this mysterious character, while producing a safe amount of distance between them on this short hollow log. His eyes were wrapped in a crimson-colored bandage, blending well with his crimson locks that he was unsurprised he hadn't seen it the first time, much like how he hadn't seen this log before the man sat on it.

There was a note of familiarity about him, but Naruto couldn't pinpoint it. If he _had_ known him in his past life, he must've been unimportant. He had a way with faces, but trying to recall where he saw the man's face was too difficult.

"My question before yours, Naruto Uzumaki."

Naruto was starting to hate how he was addressing him. It sounded too much like a certain egomaniac from a shounen manga he had read when he was a kid.

"Go ahead," he answered, doing his best to keep civility in his tone, but the lopsided smile on the man's face hinted at him already knowing Naruto's agitation.

"What were you trying to accomplish in the new world you entered?"

Whoever this man was, he was well-informed. Not only in his involvement in stopping Madara, but also his traversing into Kiiro-Naruto's world, the man knew.

"Truthfully, nothing of real importance," he answered honestly. "If Madara also exists in that world, I'll help my counterpart in every way I can."

"Your last help ended with the Kyuubi breaking from its cage."

His eye-twitched. "Yeah, yeah, I screwed up. Sheez, no one will live that down, huh."

"Oh I doubt that, Naruto Uzumaki, seeing that the only people who know of your meddling are me, your father, and that sheep you conjured in little Naruto Uzumaki's mind."

Naruto opened his mouth for a retort.

"But he's not your real father, is he?" the man interrupted, to which Naruto didn't bother answering; he knew a rhetorical question when he heard it, even when there was no sarcasm in his tone. "_Your_ father died twenty-two years ago, whereas here he had passed five-going-on-six."

"So what's your point?"

"My point is nothing more than stating the temporal difference between your world's timeline and this one. And I believe I've just answered your question, Naruto Uzumaki."

_Fuck_, Naruto thought. _He led me right into that._ Though he wished to lament on his mistake, a part of him thanked it. He now had more reason to be wary with this individual. As far as things went, the man wasn't too keen on providing answers to his questions. What Naruto had trouble figuring out was why the man was asking useless questions—at least they seem that way. What were his goals exactly?

_He's unknown, tricky, and acting like he's playing an entertaining game with me, only I don't realize we were playing until the end. Still, what is he accomplishing?_

"My question next, if you will, Naruto Uzumaki," he said, and Naruto nodded. "Accomplishments aside, what do you believe is your biggest failure in your old life?"

He clenched his hands, willing his mind not to think back on that tragic day when Konoha had been destroyed a second time during the war. So many deaths, so many civilian casualties (men, women, children, infants . . . this enemy cared nothing about morality), so many regrets. He had promised he would protect, he had promised he would die before he'd see Konoha fall, he had promised, promised, _promised!_ Yet by the time night had settled into the land, he left his home a broken man.

While he willed his thought to not dig deeper into the horrid past, the rest of him didn't follow that order. The more he thought about pushing these memories to the dark recesses of his mentality, the more he had clear access into them that he involuntarily began reliving them. Mind disciplining was a sour subject for Naruto, and nothing could show it more greatly than in this instance, where he asked for repression, he was given recollection.

"Don't fight back the past, Naruto Uzumaki," the man said, hunching forward, resting his forearms to his knees, and staring at the fire. "It is the foundation of your character. Scars, experiences, memories . . . living. These define you today, and so to deny yourself the past would be denying a part of your self."

"Big words coming from you," Naruto replied. "I can see you're going for the omnipotent approach, but don't think for even one _millisecond_ that you have a good grasp of my character. I don't think about it because I don't want to, and—as you said before—doesn't that define who I am as well?"

"A question I will choose to not answer until I acquire my own answer from you. Tell me, Naruto Uzumaki. If you wish to go forward, you must tell me."

Inside, Naruto seethed. Forgotten memories were being dug from their graves, their coffins pried open, and inside these boxes contained no decay, no rotten out corpses, no worms slithering about . . . just fresh, healthy-looking bodies with death far from their appearances. And why _should_ they have been affected with this? They were never dead, just forgotten, sealed away and entered stasis, waiting for the day they would reemerge.

Memories repressed were often that way for a reason. It might be either a conscious or subconscious thing, but for Naruto's case it was of both. He consciously wished to remove every memory he had of that night, and his subconscious busied itself with removal right around the time he had collapsed a day after the tragedy while he still smelled of smoke, blood, and burned flesh. He had been bedridden for a week, and no one talked about that night around him. All he knew was that Konoha was destroyed and many of his loved ones had died trying to protect it. What nobody would dare tell him that he had been there—Kiba, Neji, Lee, Kotetsu, Izumi, Iruka, Homura, and most important of all, Sakura—during their final moments among the living. Nobody dared tell him that he had been there to see the life die in their eyes while the will of fire still burned in their departed souls. Nobody dared.

"It was a night I rather forget." Naruto lifted both hands to his bowed head, the heel of his palm kneading on the corner of his eyebrows as his fingers glided on his scalp. The memories were slowly returning. "The day Madara invaded Konoha and killed hundreds, if not thousands, of people. The screams of many, I hear in my sleep. The scent of the raging fire engulfing the village, I smell whenever wood is burned. The sight of blood, organs, and the white-eyed stares of non-Hyuuga ninjas, I see from time to time, as if whatever present I tried to live was an illusion and I was forever stuck inside that day, forced to relive my failure as castigation. If I hadn't willed myself to forget, I might not have never been able to gather the strength to continue fighting."

"I can see that this memory troubles you greatly," the man said, sounding like he sympathized with him. "I will not force you to relive anymore of it."

With that single sentence, every thought about that tragic night was locked back up. Even when he tried to think back on it—an involuntary action of his mind, nothing more—it was like a giant firewall was built in front of the door leading towards that sea of regret, grief, and despair.

"Did you just—" Naruto stopped himself before he was able to fully articulate a question. Despite the raging curiosity to learn that the mysterious redhead had a hand in this strange event—it didn't seem far off; Naruto still suspected the man erased his memories when he was asleep—he needed to save his question for something much more important.

"Who are you?"

"This is the first time we met, Naruto Uzumaki, yet at the same time, this is also the third time we met."

"Huh?"

"In your world, I was a blinded fool, letting hatred and ambition corrupt my intentions. In this world, I have achieved enlightenment through an early death." He looked straight at Naruto, his eyes piercing him with intense fascination through the crimson cloth wrapped around them. "This world has many secrets, young one. And I have the bad luck of knowing them all."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I'll get to that; don't worry. But I do have to wonder why you can barely remember who I am. We've met before in your old life, and I can see a sense of familiarity glowing in your eyes—yes, those gray eyes . . . perfect."

"True, I seem to recall you from somewhere," Naruto said, racking his brain to remember, "but I still asked a question you have to answer."

"Persistent, are we?" It was meant to be rhetorical like before.

But Naruto just felt like answering. "You'd probably change the subject otherwise." Due to his short-attention span in his youth, this happened a lot. He always became annoyed when people abruptly changed subjects.

The man nodded, not out of reluctance or resignation, but out of determination. This was in contrast to how Naruto pictured him to be earlier. The man seemed to have a sense of honor—a rare trait to find in the ninja world. Well, his world anyway. Maybe it was not that uncommon to find someone like him here.

The crimson cloth covering his eyes was slowly removed. When Naruto had a good look at the man's eyes, a sudden realization came upon him. Those eyes shined in the firelight, casting those gray orbs in a yellowish tint, yet not even that color could mistake the multiple rings spreading out from the pupil. Eyes Naruto had seen years ago, eyes he never thought he'd see again.

The Rinnegan.

"Na—Na—"

"It is nice to meet you, Naruto Uzumaki. I am the reincarnated Rikudou Sennin, Nagato Uzumaki."

* * *

"This is too surreal," he murmured. The headache was slowly returning, and the conversation with the mysterious individual had come to a dramatic pause.

After announcing that he was, in fact, Nagato _Uzumaki_, Naruto did the sensible thing and outright yelled, "Bullshit!" Nagato took it with a shrug and a chuckle, not at all annoyed. His calm fuelled Naruto's confusion and frustration, and it led to a three-second silence before the former blond stood up from his seat and paced about the room, muttering.

Nagato did not utter a sound after his introduction, neither proving he was who he said he was nor admitting that what he said was fecal matter of a taurus.

Naruto liked it that way; the silence made it better for him to think things thoroughly. But tried as he might, his thoughts brought him back to the same conclusion he had come to before the bullshit comment. That one simple declaration tore open a stampede of questions he wanted to ask immediately, but something held him back.

He opted taking a deep breath, reeling in his loose thoughts, and returning to his seat. Slumping with a heavy sigh might have been overly dramatic, but it summed up his feelings in one go. He didn't bother seeing if Nagato knew how much he had confused him now, and if Naruto had even bothered to look, he would've seen a knowing smile on the redhead's lips.

"Next question," Naruto said, "Let's get this over with."

Nagato, unfortunately, didn't inquire about his abruptness—it would've been wasting a more important question otherwise. "Have you been in love?"

"Yes," he answered abruptly. He said nothing more. There was no need for elaboration.

If Nagato had been disappointed, he didn't show it. But the smile withered from his lips and morphed into a thin horizontal line, a sign of masking emotions.

"Why did you heal me and bring me here?" was his question. He might not remember what happened to him, but with the fresh bandages wrapped around his torso, he eventually sought his own conclusions based on the clues laid out before him. He expected a quick answer like what he had done, but Nagato still held onto that 'respect to a guest' thing, so his answer was quite informative. Again, he had the sudden wild thought that the former Akatsuki pseudo-leader intended to inform him of everything that had transpired.

"I didn't heal you, Naruto Uzumaki," he said, once again interlocking his fingers and resting his forearms on his knees as he stared into the fire. "I merely carried you into my sanctuary to recuperate from the extraction process."

"Extraction process?"

Instead of replying that his question limit was up, as Naruto realized moments after asking, Nagato chose to humor him. "You do not remember between the time you've crossed the secret door and the time you've fallen unconscious in the shed." There was a slight emphasis on _do not_, as if they were more fitting words than _may not_. "It is better this way, perhaps. But rest assured, you have forgotten what happened, but the effect instilled upon you remains. And that is what's important."

Naruto tried his luck a second time. "Why?"

"To save humanity, of course."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

He lucked out on the third question when Nagato turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided smirk, the latter portraying a very different person from what he was used to. Just what happened to this world's Nagato that caused this kind of change? It wasn't bad _per se_, just unexpected.

"My question first, Naruto Uzumaki," he said. "If you were, say, given the chance to control the body of this world's Naruto, what would be your reaction?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"It is merely a hypothetical question, nothing more."

Naruto stood up again and neared the burning bonfire. The sight of it still made him uneasy for some unfathomable reason, but looking into Nagato's Rinnegan eyes as they reflected the yellow-orange ambience of the fire in front of him made him more uneasy. His thoughts raged at the appalling notion of taking over Kiiro-Naruto's life. Sure, he never expected to be where he was now from a jutsu's weird transdimensional effect, but that would not justify him invading his counterpart's life. He already lived his life and died a man strengthened by his mistakes and regrets. He wasn't looking for a second chance, despite his many wishes to do so because in the end, those mistakes and regrets molded him into the person he was today. What didn't kill him made him stronger, and he had used that strength to fulfill the prophecy the best way he could. Happiness was something he lacked during the last years of his life, always battle after battle after battle until that unavoidable event, where the final showdown between good and evil commenced at last. At first, this might be his chance to attain a small taste of normalcy after all the crap his life and fate (mentioned out of sarcasm; he still did not believe in this thing and would rather see it copulate itself if it did) had thrown at him.

If it were, he didn't take the chance.

Because it would mean stealing a life, a five-year-old's life.

Naruto breathed deeply from his nose and looked upwards, barely noticing that the uneasiness in his gut dissipated the moment his eyes steered away from the direct sight of the fire. He wondered how long he had been contemplating his answer, but then dismissed it. If he had inconvenienced Nagato for taking too long, the guy probably didn't mind.

When he looked back towards his fellow Uzumaki, he answered him with the voice he used whenever he wanted to motivate his team before a mission, before entering a battle that could be their last.

"Angry, resentful, grievous," he said. "Yet happy, excited, and thankful," he admitted. It was human nature to search for happiness even when the means to it were not righteous. Naruto doubted there was anyone who didn't have a selfish thought once in their life. And though this was human nature, to not act on these questionable methods to happiness was a sign of being humane.

"You've stated your thoughts as well your hidden thoughts," Nagato remarked. "How very honest of you."

"It's not about being honest, Nagato. I gave you an answer. Give me mine."

"Very well. To save humanity, there has to be a small compromise. It is divided into four steps, two of which have already been done."

"But why?"

"To save humanity, of course. What other reason is needed?"

"No, I mean, why me? I've already saved the world—well, my world anyway—why should I be forced into this responsibility again?"

"Because you were destined to."

He clenched his fists, forcing back the frightening urge to beat someone black and blue right this instant. After countless trials and heartache, after many battles he faced and brothers he had to bury, he was once more cast into a chess game created by fate. He might not believe in fate, but the problems lay out before him—problems he had to solve for the sake of the world—revealed a pattern reminiscent of a struggling hero. His life was already predestined, and it was forged in the battlefield, where he felt more alive than anywhere else. He was a ninja in heart and soul, and though he had vowed to end the cycle of hatred plaguing humanity, there were still remnants of the human basic instinct—raw, wild, uncontrollable, filled with bloodlust. In his teen years, Naruto deluded himself into thinking he'd get rid of them with time, and in the end, these remnants were still there, present but dormant.

Despite his misgivings in replaying a role he thought he had already given up on, anticipation tried to scorch away the doubt flooding his mentality. An anticipation for battle, for conflict . . . for war. And Naruto felt sickened to the bone by it.

"What did you do to me?"

This question had taken Nagato by surprise this time. But then he seemed to have realized what the former blond was thinking because his raised eyebrows came down along with the formation of his lips, creating a disapproving frown.

They both knew Naruto was pinning blame to others when there was no blame to pin. His basic human instinct yearned for these unthinkable concepts because they were ingrained into his mind since the day he had begun conjuring rational thought. No one was to blame for the construct of his instincts other than genetics, but still, Naruto wanted to blame something for this. His mind's views and his body's hidden urges were at each other's throats, and it was tearing Naruto apart. He couldn't pick sides because choosing either one meant betraying a part of him.

"That's not the kind of question you should be asking me, Naruto Uzumaki," he stated monotonously, in contrast to the animated voice he used earlier. "Whatever inner turmoil you're experiencing was created by you and you alone. The only thing I did was remodel your state of being, nothing more."

Casting this inner turmoil, as Nagato said, aside for now, he refocused on the conversation. "What are these steps you mentioned?"

Nagato looked really glad to answer that. "Step one"—he raised his right fist and jutted the forefinger—"transform you into an Uzumaki."

"But . . . I _am_ an Uzumaki."

"In name and blood, yes, but your father's genes achieved dominance over your mother's. A rare thing to happen, but it did, so I had to tweak your genetic structure a bit after you and Minato Namikaze resealed the Kyuubi."

"So you tweaked my body to have dominant genes of my Mom? But why—"

It suddenly dawned on him then. Regardless of the weak logic brought out in the open (when and how was Nagato able to do that?), he found a missing piece of an unsolved puzzle.

"You're the one who turned me into this," he murmured, touching his red hair, blinking his gray eyes. "But . . . what about Naruto, my counterpart? Why does he look like me now?"

"I needed a basis for your metamorphosis, Naruto Uzumaki. The Naruto Uzumaki of this world had the dominant genes of Kushina Uzumaki, and as such, he was the perfect candidate." He took a breath before continuing. "Sadly, I do not have the power to duplicate that state of sovereignty. I can only transfer them."

"So you didn't modify our genes _per se_, just swapped them?"

"Correct."

"And all this was part of the plan?"

"Correct again. The prophecy won't be fulfilled unless a _true_ Uzumaki appeared."

"But again, why _me_? Isn't the prophecy supposed to be for my counterpart?"

Nagato shook his head. "Originally, yes, but the parameters have changed. When news of your impending arrival spread, the whole fabric of time had to be rewoven to accommodate you into the equation. With that said, you were deemed a more suitable candidate as the Child of Prophecy than the Naruto Uzumaki of this world."

"Fucking _balls_." Naruto rubbed his eyes tiredly with his forefinger and thumb. He didn't bother asking how swapping roles in a prophecy was possible; if Nagato could swap genetic structures, then how plausible would it be for him to do this as well? "So you've been expecting me before I even came here?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes. Like I said before, this world has many secrets. Don't be surprised that I claim to know when and how you'd arrive."

"Then you know my future too? How will that come about?"

"I am not liable to say one's future. If you were to know, then it will not come to pass. And if this future does not come to pass . . ." He left the phrase unsaid, and Naruto caught onto what was implied. "Step two," he continued, "is far simpler than the first: Purification."

"What do you mean? And how do you say it's simpler?"

"That's two questions, Naruto Uzumaki. Answer this for me: If you were forced to sacrifice a life to preserve the peace, will you do it?"

"I will not."

"Then peace is destroyed and the world is engulfed in havoc."

"No, it won't," Naruto retorted, his determination shining brightly in his steely gray irises, "because I'll find a way to save both."

"A foolhardy answer, yet something in your eyes tell me that you've done this before . . . probably encountered someone inquiring a similar question. Now to my second question: Why save both, knowing that it's not a given choice?"

Naruto held a hand to his heart, tracing the contours of the bandages with his calloused fingers. The redhead's words sparked the encounter with Itachi Uchiha years ago, in a time when Sasuke's hatred and vendetta hadn't been mutated and manipulated by the ancient Uchiha hiding in Akatsuki's name. There was no scar visible on his chest, but the entry and exit wounds of Sasuke's Chidori transcended the physical. It had been a clear sign that Sasuke wished to sever the bonds he made in Konoha, honestly believing that such things distracted him from his path as an avenger. He lived alone, therefore he would die alone.

Naruto just couldn't accept, even now, that it came true.

_I couldn't save him in time_, he thought grievously, shaping his tracing hand into a fist and then tapped the healed entry wound with as much force as a playful jab.

His eyes stared into the circular patterns of the Rinnegan, and, with conviction as tough as his, he answered, "Because I don't like being given limited choices. As long as there is free will, I can choose which path my life will take, and if I'm not satisfied with that path, I'll forge my own."

"Big words, Naruto Uzumaki," Nagato replied, "but they are not enough to create a third choice. And look how much you've failed forging that new path when Sasuke died by—"

"Shut up," he growled, eyes glancing away, into the dark shadows where they neither complimented nor reprimanded his past actions.

"Very well, I will be sure to avoid mentioning your best friend." Nagato took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Step two requires only your presence, with or without your consent. That is why it is much simpler."

"With or without my consent," the ex-blond muttered, his eyes narrowing at the implication.

"And I stand by the name I've provided, purification, for there is no other name to describe it. I'm just sad to say that your . . . rebellion in the snowfield created less than satisfactory results in the purification process." He shook his head. "I had hoped to take you by surprise at the time, but I greatly underestimated your skills. And because of that, the purification will take much longer to finish than before."

"You mean you haven't finished yet?"

"No. From the time my pets brought you to me and to the time you have woken up, I was busy with Step Two. With your prolonged exposure to the snowy weather of the Mindscape Boundaries, it'd take a lot more time to finish.

"With that said, you've entered a form of stasis until you were, more or less, purified of everything not needed."

"Huh," Naruto remarked, "I don't feel any different."

"It's not the body but the soul I've cleansed. The last two steps cannot be initialized otherwise."

"Then how long have I been asleep?"

Nagato remained silent.

"Nagato! Tell me. How long was I in here?"

"You will still need to be here for Step Three, Naruto Uzumaki." He stood up hastily, his voice hardening as his eyes narrowed. "The prophecy demands that you complete your destiny. Now come, let us move on. Now that you are awake, we can prepare you for what lies ahead."

"I'm not going anywhere, least of all with _you_."

"This isn't a matter of choice, Naruto Uzumaki. To prevent the spread of darkness, of hatred, the prophecy _must_ be fulfilled."

"And like I said, I'm not going anywhere. Just try and make me."

"I—"

Whatever he was about to say got lost when the second Rikudou Sennin closed his eyes and mouth, took a deep breath while panning his head upwards, and exhaled through his puckering lips as if he were releasing a breath of smoke. He stayed silent for five seconds, going on six, seven, eight, nine, ten—and then panned his head back down so that they were looking eye-to-eye, both exhibiting determination in their beliefs and desires. It didn't seem like neither one was about to stand down. There was something in his eyes Naruto felt disconcertment, like staring into the eyes of a prankster who knew someone was about to get pranked. Whatever power of foreknowledge the redhead had within this realm, it must've channeled valuable intel just now, and he understood that it was about him.

"No," Nagato said, never removing eye contact and keeping the blinks at a minimum, "I won't have to make you. There is still time before that day. Until then, you are relatively safe from me."

The deliverance was cold and detached, and Naruto didn't like it. Not only the sign of indifference, the guy was deliberately insinuating that he'd return here to continue these steps of his sometime in the future. And he already deduced that this so-called 'that day' pertained to the day when chaos and darkness ruled the world. He believed it was the truth, but he was no yes-man to anyone, especially not fate or prophecies. He had enough being their pawn.

"Just what happened to you, Nagato? You were never like this. Weren't we fellow pupils?"

"Of Jiraiya?" Nagato formed a nostalgic smile. "It has been years since I've last seen him and Tsunade-san, but I learn more about their lives every day here. Their daughter takes up after her father a little too much for Tsunade-san's liking."

"While I love to stay and chat about a girl possibly giggling perversely as she peeks in the men's bath"—for some reason, this produced a shiver down his spine and an urge to rectify the corruption Jiraiya induced via genetics—"I need to head back to my counterpart, double-time."

"I'm a little surprised that you haven't asked how and why I have gotten the title as the reincarnated Rikudou Sennin." With no intention of stopping Naruto now, he sat back down. "You didn't even demand I change you and the other Naruto back to your old selves."

"Would you comply if I did?"

"On both accounts? No. On just the inquiries? Yes . . . maybe."

"Glad I'm not curious, then."

"Hasty to get out, I take it?"

"You have no idea."

Nagato snorted inconspicuously. "Though we have not seen eye-to-eye, Naruto Uzumaki, I sincerely hope you will change your mind in the end."

_You're not hoping, bastard_, he thought, resisting the need to grit his teeth, _you're actually waiting for it. Too bad I'm already onto you._

"If you wish to get out, stare into the fire."

Naruto might've asked for clarification, but a split-decision put an end to his question before it came out. He instead turned his head towards the fire, noting that the uneasy feeling from before was mysteriously absent, and stared.

And stared.

And stared.

There was a certain level of calm coming to his features, and though he still had the undesirable trait of having a short-attention span, his mind never once thought about looking away. The fire wasn't enticing or soothing, like a moth being attracted to a bug-zapper, but it still had a grip on his attention, eliminating every new idea his mind conjured in the speed of thought. All that was in there was the fire.

It might've lasted an eternity in the speed of thought, but in the realms of this dark mindscape—the supposed realm of the Second Rikudou Sennin—it was only fifteen seconds after he stared into the flames that he felt a slight tug on his navel. Soon, the world began to swirl and crack and become disjointed, and he was feeling a potent sense of vertigo.

His consciousness slipped from the void-like mindscape and reentered the familiar sewer room where Kyuubi rested and hid in the darkness of its new cage. He turned around, but there was no trace of a portal or doorway that bridged this point to Nagato's little campfire. He didn't know how exactly he had come here, but it was nothing like a shunshin or reverse-summoning. It was more like he unconsciously willed himself to appear here, and it was that will alone granting him passage.

"Glad to be back," he murmured to the room, a smile forming on his lips. He never thought he'd miss this place as much as he did now, but in a way it was comforting; it meant he deemed this his new home.

First things first, he needed to know some current events. And the only person that could supply him with that was Rambo. Naruto quickly stepped out of the sewers and traversed the mindscape towards his base of operations, only to stop his hand from grabbing the doorknob when he realized how disheveled the place looked now. Cracks in the paint, the windows fogged up, and the door's hinges covered in rust.

A chill coursed down his spine. He opened the door, hinges screaming like mini-banshees as they were reintroduced to the forces of friction.

"Rambo!" he called after stepping into the hallway, the lights completely off, shrouding his vision beyond four feet. He flipped the light-switch and ventured deeper. "Rambo!"

"What?" the animal called back from somewhere. "Ah . . . Junko!"

Naruto heard a series of hoof-steps growing louder and louder, and from the entranceway to the kitchen, a white, fluffy sheep with noticeable horns jutting from its head came out.

"Rambo?" He could hardly recognize the sheep; he now looked a lot more like an actual ram than a gender-confused mammal. As the chill once more returned, Naruto let out the only word he had the strength to utter: "Yo."

Rambo's features turned annoyed. "You've been gone for two years and that's the first thing you say?"

* * *

Nagato stayed where he was as he watched the young Uzumaki fade from sight, a ghost of a smile adorning his lips. As soon as the last remnant of Naruto exited this plane of existence, Nagato intertwined his fingers once more and took on a thinking pose, elbows planted on his laps, mouth buried in the space between his thumbs and forefingers. He pondered over their discussion, how he almost lost control of his anger when the boy began to show his rebellious streak. But then again, the boy obviously didn't trust people easily after all that had happened in the Fourth Great Shinobi War. If it hadn't been for the last second insight, Nagato might have resorted to less-than-benevolent actions to ensure stability of the world.

This insight was another vision of the future. While these visions were often common, they didn't come unprecedentedly like what happened then. This was the first time it had happened to him since his induction as the Second Rikudou Sennin, and the contents of the vision were not at all comforting. He knew Naruto would come back—it was predestined, no matter how many times the future changed via his manipulations—but he wouldn't do so until there were only hours before the 'point of no return,' a time when even his own knowledge of the future could not determine the outcome of the upcoming battle. Despite the odds slowly turning against him, he didn't mope around and lament this fate. These were the cards he had been dealt with, and it would be dishonoring the vows he made to the people who died to get him here.

He succeeded his predecessor because the world needed a new protector of stability, a new scion of balance. The world was without a guardian for centuries, and the neutrality between light and darkness was at the breaking point. This battle was now inevitable, and the best anyone could hope for was lessening casualties. He had been entrusted with this responsibility and he'd be damned before he let things fall. He would honor the trust placed in him, even if it meant forcing a soul into a suicidal situation—the death of one for the lives of many. Despite these words echoing in his head, his heart responded differently. He had been raised and trained to respect honor, to stay in his beliefs, and to be true to himself. All of this cloak and dagger movement, being an omnipresent deity manipulating the acts and whims of the masses under his limited control—all of this didn't sit well for him. He started fights and rivalries, ended loves and friendships. And it was all for the betterment of the world.

Yet he kept at it because he still wished to honor the pact between him and his ancestor, the original Rikudou Sennin. There were times he thought about quitting, but he never once acted upon these human impulses. Someone had to be here to prevent random events from diverting the timeline from the original course. One mistake that could not be rectified might mean the difference between a world of peace like he, Konan, Yahiko, and Jiraiya-sensei had always envisioned and a world razed by hatred and war, depleting the human population to a dwindling number that it'd take centuries for the population to return.

"For the greater good," he said to the fire with a sneer, close to hating such callous words, yet he had to regard such a phrase as if it were a biblical quote, a command needed to be followed.

"Was it wise to leave him be?"

Nagato didn't turn his head towards the speaker. He replied, "It's best that he and I remain neutral, if not reluctant allies. If I were to force it on him _now_, he'd probably abuse it to annoy me and defy the contents of the prophecy."

"That's Naruto Uzumaki, all right."

He might not be looking at the person behind him, but he could sense in his tone of voice that he was smiling humorously.

"The most unpredictable man I have the misfortune of meeting."

"I second that, my friend," Nagato said, "I second that. How are things from your side?"

"Good as to be expected," the person answered. "Two years is a really long time and the ramifications"—he stopped a moment to snort, as if remembering an inside joke—"of keeping Naruto this long in stasis could turn your well-defined plan into garbage."

"I made the plan to be quite flexible and able to adapt to any random variable intending to disrupt it. And if it does fail . . . well, garbage can still be salvaged, correct?"

"I see. While I have confidence that Naruto can become the man he is destined to become, I do not believe that this can be achieved through manipulations alone. The future looks bleak as ever."

"I'd be quite afraid if it weren't, to tell the truth." Nagato smiled and closed his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because bleak means that the future is still pure, still untainted by the repercussions of the past and present. With that said, it can still be saved."

"I guess even you are trying to defy fate, hmm?" The person chuckled and, if Nagato's hearing was right, turned around.

"I'm not defying fate, Rambo," Nagato replied, opening his eyes again, staring into the fire where at the very core, he could see Naruto on his way back to his counterpart's mindscape. "I am merely manipulating it."

"It's about time I head back, then. Someone has to greet the ex-blond on the other side."

"I wish you luck, my friend. Be sure to take care of him. He will need it for the tough road ahead."

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

It seems a little repetitive to say this, especially since almost every other author I've read states this out in their A/N, but oh well. And so . . . the plot thickens.


	12. Live is Evil Spelled Backwards

Date written: 12/06/11 – 23/06/11

Posted on FanFiction: 28/06/11

A/N: If you want to keep tabs on my progress with the next chapter, check my profile page every few days. I update the word count on WIP chapters on all current stories.

This chapter is mostly filler, but the plot still carries on, although in a snail's pace. The real tension and action will start next chapter, after a bit more character development and reintroduction due to the time skip. I find that this story is motivated in equal parts plot and characters. I can't progress this further if the characters do not speak out like real people, and the characters can't progress through their development without conflicts and motivations pushing them onwards. I've come to love my rendition of the Naruto cast, and I hope I at least did some of them justice with their alternate universe counterparts.

It has angst, it has comedy (they make _me_ laugh anyway), and it has suspense (in the end anyway). And I'm happy with what I created.

And time to congratulate myself on a milestone achievement: 100k words, baby! 100k words . . . and still counting!

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 12 ––**

**Live is Evil Spelled Backwards**

The morning sunshine breached through the thin veil of the window curtains and basked his face with light and heat. He squirmed in his sleep as he unconsciously covered his eyes with his forearm. He was not always lazy, but he had been up all night researching an original technique inspired from one of his lucid dreams, so it was to be expected he didn't want to rise up to the morning, eat breakfast, and head for the Academy.

The thought of tardiness seeped into his thoughts, and seven-year-old Arashi Senju groaned in resignation. The clock on his bedside informed him he still had two hours before he could be late for school. It relaxed his agitation somewhat. His adopted mother and also godmother, Tsunade Senju, wanted to ingrain into him the importance of punctuality, and to ensure actual progress, her punishments for _any_ tardiness was a little extreme. Two hours only gave him fifteen minutes of rest before he had to get off the bed and do his weekday morning routines.

But even those precious fifteen minutes had shattered when a particular white-haired girl came into his room and attacked him in his bed. This was a relatively normal scene in the morning, yet he would rather spend his time without being subjected to her fascination with wrestling submission holds.

"Onee-chan!" he shouted, struggling to get out of the Boston crab she pinned him in. "Ow, ow, ow!" Dignity lost, he tapped the mattress repeatedly, but his sister kept the pressure.

"Too weak! Too weak!" Ten-year-old Chiyome Senju laughed gleefully as she pulled her little brother's legs a little harder. "You're never going to surpass me at this rate, Naru-kun."

"I give already. Ow, h—hey! Do it any harder and you'll dislocate my knees." He didn't stop tapping; the pain was relentless.

"I'm not dislocating your knees, silly," she replied. "If I did, you'd be screaming in pain."

"HOW IS THIS NOT SCREAMING IN PAIN?"

"See, just like that."

"Onee-chan, just get"—he struggled violently—"off!"

"Wah?" The grapple was broken, and in the ensuing tangle of legs, Chiyome slipped off the bed and hit her head on the floor. She didn't yelp, but she nursed the impacted spot, gritting her teeth.

"Ah, Onee-chan, are you okay?"

She gave him a look that yelled, _'Do I look okay to you?'_

"It's karma, you know," Arashi said. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before trying out your wrestling moves while I'm asleep."

"I only did that once, okay, and I already apologized for it. You were already awake, too. And this is just skinship, my little brother, skinship." As if by magic, she rose from the floor, acting like she hadn't been hit in the head by karma, and went to happy-go-lucky mode again. "It helps strengthen our sibling bond."

"My impression on sibling skinship does not include butt-to-butt contact," he deadpanned. "Also pain. Definitely pain."

"Butt-to-butt," she whispered slowly before a healthy dose of pink came to her cheeks. Hands moving to cover the pink, she smiled and shook her head like a flustered schoolgirl. "Aiyah! Arashi-kun no ecchi! (_**tr. **_"Arashi, you little perv!")"

"I don't know what you're thinking, but I can tell it's not good."

"I'm your Onee-chan, and yet . . . I never thought you'd have such vulgar thoughts about me."

_Definitely not good_, he thought as a shiver rolled down his spine.

"But teasing aside," Chiyome said, fixing her one-sided twin-tails, "you better get ready for school."

He bowed his head, sighed dramatically, and turned to his bedside clock again. "There goes my fifteen minutes." He made sure to turn off the alarm before he did anything else.

"Mom was called in about five o'clock today, so she's not home. It's also my turn to cook breakfast this time. What'll you have?"

He thought it over as he ejected out of his bed with less vigor than usual. "Toasts and egg."

"Buttered?"

"And sugared."

"The egg or the toasts?"

"That joke is already old, Onee-chan." He yawned and ran a hand through his unruly blond hair.

"Not too old for me, though. Teehee. Get down at fifteen, okay?"

"Yeah," he replied as he made his way to the bathroom bridging his bedroom to hers. He closed the door on his side and then the door on his sister's side; she always left it open, much to his dismay whenever she hopped out of the shower and it was his turn to bathe. They might be too young for adolescent hormones to kick in, but Arashi had seen enough of Chiyome's 'hidden skin' to not be perturbed by it anymore (though somewhere in the back of his mind, he could've sworn someone kept reciting three words like a mantra of reassurance: "I'm not Pedobear!") and his too-young mind hadn't yet grasped the concept of sexual arousal, although he wasn't that ignorant of the theory.

Arashi faced the mirror and looked into the face of a person he had become since the Second Coming two years ago. After he had awoken from his coma, Tsunade, the Hokage, and Jiraiya were all in his room carefully discussing to him the effects caused by the release of his seal. To hear that he was the container for the Kyuubi no Youko was a little hard to swallow, more so when he realized that it was his own father who sealed the demon in him. He felt a lot of negative emotions that day and said a lot of hurtful things, such hatred and damnation to a man he had looked up to, and it slowly turned even sourer when he first looked into a mirror, where alien features stared at him from the other side.

The spiky blond hair, the sky blue shade of his eyes, the lack of whisker marks on his cheeks, his pale skin darkened into a light tan—almost everything that made him Naruto Uzumaki had changed and what remained was a likeness of the man he was slowly starting to hate. He had broken the mirror in that hospital bathroom, unable to accept the truth presented to his eyes as he cradled his bleeding knuckles with tears cascading down his unmarred cheeks.

Eventually he coped with change and adapted to acquiring a new identity, and the once unrelenting hatred he had of his father was dwindling until all that remained was a feeling of regret.

His adoption into the Senju clan had been a great surprise and wasn't just a fact by word of mouth. The whole thing was official, from signed documents to birth certificates. He was happy that Tsunade gave him a choice, but as things were like then, he didn't _really_ have a choice. He was too young to fully understand, but he understood at least enough that it was the best choice to take, so he took it. The next day, Naruto Uzumaki officially died and he was now known as Arashi Senju, the Yondaime-lookalike—a moniker he gave himself.

After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he returned to his bedroom and put on his standard garb of a white T-shirt with an orange swirl at the front and dark green shorts. Being a second year student in the Ninja Academy, he wasn't yet allowed to carry his own weapons, a privilege given only to sixth years. As far as Arashi knew, the first year was all about theory and basic physical exercises, and then there were a few tests to see if the ninjas-in-training were fit for this line of work. Second year was where things turned up to a whole different level, and Arashi now actually had to make a tiring effort to stay on the top of his game and not lose to his academic rivals.

He stood in front of the full-length mirror and assumed the fighting stance the class learned last week. He returned to a relaxed, standing position and instantly shifted back to the fighting stance. What he wanted to work on was his reflexes because swift change from passive to aggressive held some merit in taijutsu, a subject he was lacking in a few aspects. He was more motivated to improve when the instructors announced that there would be a taijutsu competition held at the end of the month. A perfect time to test his skills against other students inside and outside his class.

He kept this exercise for a while until his sister called him down for breakfast. He came down to the dining room, sat on his designated seat, waited for his sister to come join him, said his grace, and happily ate.

"Got any plans after school?" she asked as she pierced the tuna she was eating. Unlike Arashi, she preferred her breakfast to be a light rice meal.

"Not really," he answered nonchalantly.

"It's Wednesday today. And I heard the flower shop will be open until five. She'll be working there again."

"I see." He didn't let her see it, but there was a faint glint in his eyes when he listened. He tried to stay as nonchalant as he could, but his older sister knew his habits too much to be fooled.

"Yeah." The great thing about Chiyome was that she knew when not to pry. Her intention was clear, which was just to inform about the flower shop's early closing time. She didn't have any underlying motives; she was merely trying to help her brother out the best she could.

She would not realize how much Arashi loved her more for her thoughtfulness.

Thanking for the food and helping her clean the dishes, the two of them did today's chores their mother listed on the fridge, went out of the Senju clan's ancestral home, and made their way to the Ninja Academy. The thing about the flower shop was not spoken between them again.

All in all, a relatively normal morning for the Senju siblings.

* * *

They left for school an hour before classes begin because their home was built on the other side of the village. Leaping on the rooftops sounded like a good way to cut down at least half an hour of their travelling time, but neither opined this out loud to each other. As far as Arashi and Chiyome were concerned, the long walk to school had this slight calming effect upon them as they conversed about everyday stuff, from the lessons they'd learned in school to the news they sometimes get ahold of from time to time. Most of the news were about the current activities of their parents because, even though they lived off well and would probably never starve, they were deprived of one simple thing a family should have: bonding. Tsunade was busy with the hospital—approximately seventy percent of her time was given to her work, leaving little time to spend for her children. Jiraiya, on the other hand, was more often at home, but this season he was out of the country, trying to reestablish contact with his spy network, something about an important matter the Sandaime Hokage ordered him to verify.

It was just the two of them now, and this went on for almost three months. Their father might probably be back home in another week, so it wasn't all bad.

Arashi yawned as he looked towards the Hokage Monument, centering most of his attention on the fourth head. He bit back another yawn, but Chiyome picked up on it immediately.

"Didn't sleep well last night?" she asked, and he understood then that he had to tell her the truth.

"No," he answered. "I had one of those dreams again."

"You mean _those_ dreams?"

He nodded tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. "It was a bit different from the others."

"Care to share?"

He shrugged. "I was a few years older in that dream, stronger, faster, wiser." He waited for a retort from his sister, but it didn't come, so he resumed, "I had looked all cool-like standing on top of an orange toad who was on top of Gamabunta, Dad's boss summon, with the elder toads, Ma and Pa, on my shoulders. I was wearing a similar cloak as the Yondaime and I might not have seen my reflection or anything, but I have this weird thought that my eyes were like a toad's."

"And . . . that's it?"

"No, not at all. That's just the beginning, because we were in Konoha. Gamabunta was in the middle of Konoha, Onee-chan."

"And what's the big deal about that?"

"Didn't Dad once say that Gamabunta was taller than all the buildings of Konoha except for the Hokage Tower? He would've had to trample on a few buildings to stand in the middle of the village. But the strange thing is that he was standing on flat ground."

"You also said before that the Konoha in your dreams was a little different."

"Yeah, but I just know that there were buildings where Gamabunta had been standing on."

"So what does that mean?"

"There was smoke covering my vision—probably we were summoned to Konoha together—and when it cleared, I saw the Hokage Monument, and the rest of Konoha was nothing more than a crater."

"And then what?"

"There was this orange-haired weirdo with piercings and completely gray eyes. He had five others with him, all wearing the same getup and having the same eyes. And I was fighting all six of them at once. Alone."

"And you defeated them all with such ease that it isn't funny," she replied skeptically, eyeing Arashi with barely contained annoyance. "Not exactly one of your most imaginative dreams, is it?"

"I don't know how that battle ended because I woke up before it really started."

"Boring." She turned away with her arms behind her head. "Don't spice me up if it ends so badly, idiot."

"Who knows, maybe I'll see the continuation of it tonight."

"Don't hope for it, though. Your subconscious isn't really benevolent enough to let you take another bite out of that fantasy world you mysteriously conjured up."

"It's not fantasy if it's Konoha, ya know."

"Different Konoha, different acting people, me not existing there—which, by the way, I believe is your own way of insulting me—and don't forget the abusive _relationship_ you supposedly have with Haruno."

"Oh come on, Onee-chan. She wasn't _that_ bad in my dreams."

"Whoever hits you over the littlest things is bad in my book."

Her way to show sisterly care made his heart flutter.

"Of course, the exemption to that rule is me. I have every right to beat you for the littlest things."

And she ruined the moment not three seconds later. It was a frequent alternation between love and hate the two were having, but it seemed normal for the siblings to keep this up even when they grew older. She doted on him and let herself be the biggest pain in the ass he'd ever come across; he looked up to her and let her do as she pleased because he wanted her to be happy. The standpoint of their relationship had always been unclear, but nobody could ever mistake the loving bond bridging the distance between them. They weren't related by blood, but they were by name, and their roles as brother and sister didn't look to have degraded over the years. If any, it had gotten stronger, although not many could see the difference.

"What do you think these dreams mean, Onee-chan?"

"You're asking the wrong person, my precious Otouto." They were passing the street where Ichiraku Ramen was located, but after giving Arashi the evilest glare she could make, they got to the next block without him saying anything about noodles, broth, and the euphoric taste that tickles the tongue and has you begging for more. "You should go ask a Freudian."

"But their interpretations are mostly about the nasty." It was Arashi's own word for sex. Being the adopted son of a smut writer and of a veteran medic who took no bullshit and wouldn't hesitate to let her children know everything there is to know about the human anatomy, him understanding the concept behind this pleasurable activity shouldn't at all be that surprising.

And to bring forth proof of her containing half of Jiraiya's genes in her DNA, she replied, "That's why I always turn to them when I have a dream."

". . . Onee-chan, has it occur to you that maybe their dream interpretations are, uh, outdated?"

"Of course I'm aware!" she retorted. "I'm not gullible, you know."

"Then why still use their method?"

"It's like reading horoscope," she answered matter-of-factly. "It's entertainment."

"I should've known." He shook his head with a sigh, but his exasperated expression was ruined by the lopsided smile marked on his face. And that smile slowly turned predatory. "Wait till I tell Sasuke about this."

"You're obviously forgetting about that little incident in the girl's bathroom and my photographic evidence of your involvement in it." She mentioned this all playfully, as if she weren't reversing the blackmail he had tried to attain. "I wonder what Ino-chan, Haruno, Hinata-chan, and all the other girls have to say about that?"

Sweating bullets, despite the weather not being as hot as the clear sky and the bright yellow gas giant made it out to be, Arashi put his hands up. "I surrender, I surrender."

"Teehee. Who's the best?"

"Chiyome-onee-sama," he replied monotonously, dejectedly.

"Damn straight. You're still a hundred years early to beat me at my own game."

He only grunted a half-hearted response.

As they came to the gates of the Ninja Academy, with more than fifteen minutes left to spare before the first bell rings, Arashi went ahead to his classroom while Chiyome stayed behind to chat with her classmates basking in the shade of the biggest tree in the premises. It took less than five seconds for that female group to start going on about the cutest boys in the Academy—Arashi could already tell what Chiyome's choice would be, but just like his true identity, it was a well-guarded secret known only to him and his godmother. Not even her closest friends knew which boy she set her eyes on, and she intended to keep it that way. Arashi could still recall the myriad of threats she had uttered that time when he realized the receiver of her puppy love, and he had no doubt she'd carry on with every one of them if he even said a single syllable about her secret.

Entering his classroom was met with little to no attention as everybody else was too busy creating chaos, wanting to at least release some backed up primal urge that needed to be shout out and play before they had to settle down for the start of classes later. Arashi didn't join in on the unofficial festivities, but he was polite enough to say the usual 'good mornings' to his classmates when he passed them. Of course, he also had to dodge paperballs, pencil erasers, and other assortments of projectile objects. It was like lady luck had shined upon him that morning because he only had to dodge three times before sitting down on his designated seat, which was just right beside his best friend and rival.

"Good morning," he said, smiling despite the need to keep the sense of rivalry between them.

He didn't expect Sasuke Uchiha of all people to greet him back, but it happened. The guy looked chipper today as well, and Arashi instantly knew the cause.

"Itachi agreed to help with your shuuriken throwing, huh?"

Sasuke beamed at him. "Yup. It only took me five hundred and thirty-three pleas to make him say yes, too."

"That's not a very small number." He had said this before, and also like before, Sasuke ignored him. "I never thought I'd see the day when your brother agrees to train you."

"He's always been busy after joining ANBU," Sasuke said sympathetically. "I'll make sure that I won't waste his time."

"Why would you think spending time with you is wasted if you didn't do good at all?" He snorted loudly, reviewing what he heard and deeming it the most incredulous thing Sasuke had said since they met. "Your brother adores you, dude. Even I can see that."

"He does? Well, he has a weird way of showing it."

Without warning, Arashi poked him in the forehead with his fore- and middle finger.

"Hey!"

"That's his weird way of showing it, all right," he interrupted, "so take it as it is and accept the guy's eccentricity."

". . . I didn't even know you _understood_ the word 'eccentricity.'"

"I resent that," Arashi growled lowly. He might be one of the topnotchers in the class, but his daydreaming tendencies (the worst of it was when he had been doing it during the final exams in first year, not once, not twice, but five times on five separate exams) labeled him as a bit of an airhead who contradicts the meaning of the word. A high IQ and airheadedness don't go hand-in-hand, but Arashi could attest to the existence of others of his kind.

In the Bleach universe, a girl named Orihime Inoue sneezed.

"By the way," Arashi said after looking around the classroom, "where're the co-founders of your little fanclub?"

Sasuke groaned and rested his forehead on his palm. "The less I think about them, the better my life will be."

"Oh come on, Sasuke, don't tell me you're afraid of two girls crushing on you?"

"I'm flattered and, at the same time, creeped out. I never thought a human's eyes could turn like pink hearts by a simple 'Hn.'"

"Ahhh, the patented Uchiha grunt." Arashi nodded sagely. "The best arsenal of playboy Sasuke Uchiha, and it'll take 0.002 seconds for the desired effect to take place, thereby leaving the victims swooning and shrieking and 'Kyaa'-ing with all their might as they—"

"Okay, enough! Sheesh, you're the most irritating guy I've ever met."

"I'm glad you think so. That makes me wanting to ruin your day all the more tolerable."

"And why exactly do you _want_ to ruin my day?"

"Because it's fun. It has always been fun, Sasuke-kun." He wiggled his eyebrows; Sasuke always felt discomfited when he did that.

"Don't. Ever. Do that. Seriously."

They spent the rest of their time talking more about trivial things, but three minutes before the first bell rang, two girls slammed open the door to the classroom with such violent force, the whole class heard it despite the racket they were storming moments earlier. The two girls who barged in were the famous, as well as infamous, Kunoichi Duo: Sakura Haruno and Ino Yamanaka.

"My win this time, Forehead!"

"Nuh-uh, my toe came in inches before yours did, Pig!"

"Weakest excuse I ever heard."

"That wasn't an excuse! It is a fact."

"A fact only _you_ are aware of, might I add."

"Yeah, well, I don't see you having proof that you won the race."

"Why would I need proof? Me knowing I won is proof enough."

_Talk about ego-inflation_, Arashi thought with a sigh. _It's nice that she's willing to fake her apparent crush on Sasuke to get Sakura out of her meek shell, but she's taking the acting a little too far for my liking. Can't do anything about it, though. Darn it._

His classmates looked at the quasi-debate between the girls a few more seconds before resuming their creation of chaos. Nobody even thought about placating the argument between the pinkette and blonde because the last time somebody did that (Shikamaru) he ended up being the outlet for their ire. After that one incident, Shikamaru kept his mouth shut and his interest elsewhere—the clouds outside, to be more specific.

"Hey, have you heard? We're getting a new teacher today."

Arashi looked behind him, curiosity evident in his face. "Where'd you heard that, Chouji?"

Chouji, who had been speaking to Shikamaru, fished out a bag of potato chips, ate a handful, and then replied, "From the faculty office. I was just passing through there, and Iruka-sensei mentioned it by chance."

"It's probably a replacement for our history teacher, Nodoka-sensei," Shikamaru revealed. He didn't break his sight from the window, where the clouds hovered like white, fluffy shapeshifters, his expression moving back and forth between boredom and intrigue (this one stemming from figuring out difficult cloud formations).

"Really?" Chouji said. "Wow, I never would've guessed."

"How did you end up to that conclusion, Shika?" Arashi asked. He wasn't like Chouji, who instantly believed whatever Shikamaru deduced.

"I've been studying Nodoka-sensei's strange behavior since last week. Tiredness, dozing off on her faculty desk, excusing herself to the bathroom frequently, and her body mass increasing by a few pounds."

"I told him that," Chouji remarked before Arashi could inquire how he had pulled off that last one. "No one but an Akamichi can know a person's body weight just by looking."

"So what does that mean? That she filed for sick leave."

Shikamaru shook his head. "Not sick leave, but _maternity _leave."

"Huh?"

"Nodoka-sensei is pregnant, Arashi."

". . . come again?"

"Pregnant. Preggers. A life within a life. A bun in the oven. A—"

"Okay, I get it. So we won't be seeing sensei for a few months?"

"Probably for the whole year."

Arashi turned back to Chouji. "So did Iruka-sensei say anything about _who_ is our new teacher?"

"I only know that the new teacher's name is Hatake."

A blast from the past, if Arashi ever heard one. "Hatake, huh?" he reiterated nonchalantly, though on the inside, he was assaulted with mixed feelings. It had been years since he last spoke to Kakashi-nii-san. Because of the need for secrecy, Kakashi was not informed of his shift in identity and, thus, only knew him as the adopted child of the Senju clan. There were many times he wished he could approach Kakashi, but he kept getting cold feet. Kakashi was a veteran ninja and Arashi knew, just _knew_, that if the two of them were to converse, then the jounin might be able to pick up the many similarities between his current self and Minato Namikaze. Not only similarities in looks but also in actions; Arashi Senju was still, in essence, Naruto Uzumaki, and habits that define him as such were not at all removed from his personality.

He honestly didn't know what to do but keep pushing forward and hope for the best. While he wished he could tell Kakashi the truth, he had to keep his mouth shut; his promise to the Hokage flashed in his mind —_**Tell nobody who you really are**_. He had to fulfill this to the bitter end no matter how much it hurt to finally see his surrogate older brother again but still act like strangers.

The sound of the morning bell derailed his train of thought as the class quieted down and headed for their seats. Even Ino and Sakura, who were still arguing over something when the bell came, sauntered over their designated seats as the class as a whole waited for the homeroom teacher to arrive.

While they might have acted like kids of their age moments before, the fact that this was the Ninja Academy, a school dedicated to creating Konoha's best shinobi the country has ever produced, could not be ignored. They were given leeway to play around and act as kids, but in the classroom during class time, age and innocence were thrown to the back of every little mind as the instructors did their part and instill honor, duty, loyalty, and, most of all, discipline to the future shinobi of Konoha.

Iruka Umino, Class 2-3's homeroom teacher, entered the classroom and stood behind the podium. The class rep ordered the student body to rise from their seats, bow to the teacher as they recite 'Good morning, sensei' in synchronized chorus, and reseat themselves.

With the standard morning greeting ritual finished, Iruka said, "Good morning, class. Now before we start roll call, I'd first like you to meet a new instructor in this wonderful institution." He turned to the open door and nodded subtly.

_This is it_, Arashi thought, _here comes Kakashi-nii-san_. His heartbeat went a little faster, his palms began to sweat, and his eyes were solely fixed on the open doorway where on the other side was a living remnant of a past he had left behind.

But the person who entered was from what he expected and the complete shock on his face was evident for all to see. The person walked into the classroom, gathering a few whispers and sighs of astonishment from the more outspoken children, and stood beside Iruka.

"Good morning, Class 2-3," the person bowed politely. "My name is Kurenai Hatake, and I'll be substituting for Nodoka Mishima for the rest of the year. It's a pleasure to meet you all."

Arashi spent gawking at Kurenai the rest of the homeroom period.

* * *

"You don't look to be in the best of moods," Ino said as she and Arashi walked home together. "Did something happen?"

"No, not really," Arashi replied, a little off and distracted, judging from the sound of his voice, "just shell shocked, I guess."

"From what?"

"From Hatake-sensei."

"What? Is she your type?"

"No! I mean I was expecting someone totally different."

"I'll have you know, Hatake-sensei is happily married."

"You're ignoring me again, Ino."

"And with good reason."

Arashi doubted that. It was just her teasing him, because she knew that he hated being ignored.

"I think you have a thing for committed women," she added.

He processed that sentence for a total of six seconds before he shouted his outburst, his indignation, his denial.

"Right," she drawled, clearly not willing to believe the truth and sticking to her half-assed deductions. If she were trying to imitate Shikamaru, she was doing a poor job at it.

_And where's your proof, huh?_ he wanted to demand, but at the last moment went for silence instead. Even if he were to voice that out, she wouldn't budge on the subject; she was much more stubborn than he was. And, more likely, he didn't want to experience the same riposte she gave to Sakura earlier in the day. As far as his mind had already predicted the outcome of their conversation, continuing with the argument would only be a waste of breath.

"I give up," he said, putting his hands in his pockets and looking away. He tended to avoid eye contact when things went sour on his side of their quasi-arguments, but Ino took it in good stride, finding his avoidance as his own way of acting like a child pouting after losing. For his part, he tried all he could to put his attention elsewhere for a little while. _Woah, didn't know the supermarket was having a sale this Sunday._

"You give up too easily, Arashi," Ino said after the silence between them expanded into three quarters of a minute, which was essentially the longest they had stayed quiet with each other. There was always something they talked about whenever they got together, and neither got bored of the other's company. "Girls won't find you appealing if this keeps up."

"I'll live." Seriously, what was the deal with relationships? He understood the concept of love and the act of preserving the species through procreation, but he never could understand his adopted father's fixation with ogling other women's private parts. Oh! Those are breasts, so what? Oh my! That's a cute kitty you have (as he read from one of the lines in Jiraiya's latest manuscript before Chiyome confiscated it . . . and started reading it herself while giggling in such a way that, for some reason, was much more disturbing than when their father does it), so what? Granted, he still blushed from seeing naked women, but that was more of a biological reaction than anything less innocent. As far as he knew about romantic love and sexual attraction, he never experienced anything so intense that he became fixated to it. Too young to understand, it seemed.

"Whatever gave you the idea that I'm interested in committed women anyway, Ino?"

"Gawking at Hatake-sensei for the most part of the class—like all the other boys—was my second clue. The first happens to be . . . here."

They both stopped just outside the Yamanaka flower shop. And as his gaze came to the clear window, where inside there was a view of the cashier's counter and the one tending to flower buyers, his stomach turned over itself and the urge to run as far away as his feet could take him came close to overtaking his reason and his will. Judging from the cocky grin Ino sported, she had spotted his nervousness, a feeling caused by a completely different reason from what she had surmised in her wrongful detective skills.

"She's single," he argued.

"Yeah, but she's also a widow. Meaning she _was_ a committed woman."

"The emphasis on 'was' is good. Keep that in mind. She's not committed otherwise."

"Should I say that you're interested in older women instead?"

"Uh . . ."

"I rest my case," she said, nodding her head as if somebody already told her it was 'case closed.' "Your face tells it all, by the way."

The sad thing about this situation was that Arashi couldn't say anything to rebuke her, unless he wanted to tell her the real reason why the sight of the cashier unnerved him.

"Aren't you coming inside?" Ino was standing under the doorway, keeping the door open for him.

He complied with her hidden request and entered the flower shop. A glance at the clock behind the counter read _4:57_. The Yamanaka flower shop was the same as when he visited here two weeks ago. His sensitive nose was assaulted by the multiple fragrances of different types of flowers, from daisies near the counter to the tulips just to his right to the daffodils farther into the shop to the well-cared orchids beside the white roses. It was . . . breathtaking, in a way, and he made sure to have his nose get as much pleasure as it could before he left.

"Welcome!" the cashier greeted, tucking a few strands of her long crimson hair behind her ear. "Ah, Ino-chan, welcome back."

"Hi, Kushina-san. Is Daddy here?"

Kushina Uzumaki removed her apron and hung it up to the lower right of the wall clock. "He's at the back, inventorying the deliveries."

"Okay, thanks." As she was about to exit alongside the last customer of the day, she turned to Arashi and said, "Stay here and keep her company." She winked. "See ya."

"Wha—? Ino!" Too late. The door already closed behind her with the jingling of the door chimes. _Damn her_.

"How has the academy been, Arashi-kun?" Kushina asked, walking towards the store window to flip over the **OPEN** sign to **CLOSED**. "I heard it was Kurenai's first day today."

"Kurenai? Oh, you mean Hatake-sensei."

This was the current state of their relationship, no acknowledgment, no parental love, no close bond, even when the part of Arashi that still wished to become Naruto Uzumaki again screamed and yelled and cried for his mother to see him as he was before, but all of that was just wishful thinking on his part.

"Yeah. How was she? Was she nervous?"

"I don't know. I think she did well for her first day. Unlike Nodoka-sensei, none of us in the class were close to dozing off."

She let out a tiny giggle. "You boys were probably enraptured by her beauty. That blush on your face proves my point."

"It—it's nothing like that." He looked away, enclosing his vision on the individual petals of the flowers he first lay his eyes on. "By the way," he continued, still looking away, "when did Hatake-sensei get married?"

"Two weeks ago. Kakashi and Kurenai decided against a formal wedding, opting instead to just sign their marriage license to make it official. No reception or anything. To me, I think they're being too practical." Her eyes narrowed wistfully. "You don't get married every day after all."

"Kakashi and Kurenai, huh. I never would've guessed." Big fat lie, just like all the lies he had been telling her after the Second Coming. He had been aware of the relationship since they made it official two years ago. But the thought of marriage didn't register in his head until Kurenai entered that classroom with the Hatake surname and a gold band on her ring finger. He was getting sloppy on information gathering.

"Their engagement before marriage was short-lived, you could say." She gazed at the window, watching but not really seeing the distorted figures of passers-by as her eyes lost their focus. "Just like Minato and me."

"You still miss him?"

"Of course I do. My love for him is, now and forever, eternal. Even when he's gone, even when I know that if he were to see me now, he'd be telling me to move on and find someone else to fill the gap left in my heart . . . but it's not that easy to forget, Arashi-kun. It's never easy."

_No_, Arashi thought, _that's where you're wrong, Mom._

Arashi didn't like seeing his real mother sad, sometimes it was best to let things come and go as they pleased. She was hurt, but not in the physical sense, and this was not yet his expertise. He knew little about psychology and the many undiscovered capabilities of the human psyche, but compared to a well-trained mind-walker, his would-be attempts at consolation meant nothing in the face of what the professional could do. And that was exactly what the professional had done to Kushina, ensured that whatever damage her psyche had been through from all the trauma her tragic life bombarded her with, it would be cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged. The unfortunate outcome, however, was not without its own bit of heartache.

If he had wanted to tell Kushina about his true identity, she would've known since day one; there was no comprehensible way for Arashi to lie to his mother. It went far beyond his morals and love for the woman, but like all things that had become when he first woke up from the hospital bed as a different boy: he didn't have a choice. Kushina didn't know he was really Naruto Uzumaki and he couldn't even tell her the truth because—

Kushina took a deep breath and ran a hand on her flat stomach. "I just wish I had something to remember him by."

—to her, Naruto Uzumaki _never_ existed. This was the price she (and implicitly, Naruto as well) had to pay to undo enough of the psychological strain to make her face life with an easy, if jagged and a little cynical, smile, to have her out of the mental hospital and try living again.

It was Inoichi Yamanaka who had done the operation, sealing every trace of the memories linking him to his mother, and just like that, Naruto Uzumaki had completely and truly died. Nobody mourned his death, nobody talked of his demise, nobody acknowledged he was the Fourth's son anymore. Not even his own mother.

Despite her wish to resume active duty as a Konoha shinobi, her record for mental instability made her unfit for it, but she was at least being paid handsomely for her retirement funds. Yet she wasn't satisfied with living a slacker life on a fat paycheck; that was not how she was brought up. So she opted to take a part-time job here in the Yamanaka flower shop, and Arashi had been coming to see her ever since. She was, however, registered for irregular hours, so nobody could be surprised if she were to work on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday on the first week, but Monday, Tuesday, and Friday on the second. Third happened to be just Wednesday, by the way. This made tracking her activities difficult, but Arashi didn't mind. Seeing her made his struggles worth it.

But in every meeting they had, he always felt equal parts happiness and despair, because even though just being near Kushina induced him with a faint state of euphoria, whatever fantasies he thought about were crushed by reality and the lack of adoration her eyes always showered him with. Gray eyes to gray eyes, a bridging symmetry between mother and son. The fantasy shattered just as his mind thought of the clash of cerulean blue and ash gray.

Nothing was ever the same.

Kushina shook her head slowly and faced him with a smile. "I'm sorry for rambling. I shouldn't be telling you my problems."

Steeling himself, lest his voice come out as a heap of broken pitches and tones, he replied, "No, no, it's all right. I don't mind." _I don't mind if you look at me more, Mom._ "How are you, though? Is everything all right, Kushina-san?"

"I'd be lying if I said everything's fine." She returned her gaze to the window. "But I'm coping as best I could. Inoichi-san has been very kind and patient."

As far as Kushina knew, she went through a nervous breakdown two years ago and was evaluated for latent post-traumatic stress disorder. Inoichi volunteered to be her watch until Tsunade cleared her case. It was a slow going process, and even though Kushina was mentally sound and stable, she couldn't go anywhere without the mind-walker's supervision. So taking the register job seemed the most suitable position to keep the two close. What she didn't know, however, was that Inoichi had been tasked to ensure the memory-wipe was maintained and sturdy. The need for this was due to a previous incident wherein Kushina somehow remembered the existence of her son through random—yet at the same time patterned in some way—elements that triggered her recollection. It was time best left forgotten, but Arashi always turned back to that day when his urge to tell her the truth came close to becoming unbearable. He didn't want her to be sad, but he also didn't want to be the cause of it.

It was better this way, perhaps, but hell, trying to wrap his head around the idea was the easy part. It was the doing part that was difficult, but he was adapting well enough.

The chimes jingled and jangled. Inoichi and his daughter came into the shop.

"Oh, Arashi-kun," Inoichi said, raising his hand in greeting, "you're back again."

"Good afternoon, Yamanaka-san. Closing shop early today?"

"Yes, I promised Ino here"—he patted her head, despite knowing she hated it when he did that—"that I'd take her out to the new grill restaurant Chouza opened up. I hear nothing but rave reviews from the papers."

"But didn't they just open last Saturday?" Kushina inquired.

"Yeah, but Chouza is friends with one of the editors of the Konoha Times, so they gave each other early services." He snorted amusedly, looking like he expected this from his old friend and teammate.

"You wanna come with us, Arashi?" Ino asked, one hand on her hip, the other straightening the hair strands disturbed by her father's patting.

_I don't want to impose_, he wanted to say, but he was interrupted.

"It's my treat, Arashi," the older Yamanaka said, "and besides, it's better to eat with more people. I don't think three is considered a crowd."

"Three?"

"Of course, three!" Ino said, smiling in a way he was all too familiar with, one that he didn't want to be the recipient of, unfortunately. "Ooba-san (_**tr.**_ 'Auntie') is coming with us." She meant Kushina.

If there was anything that could make Arashi accept an invitation within a heartbeat other than the promise of a free ramen buffet, it would be spending more time with his redhead mother. Ino might take his agreement as another clue to her 'You like older women' theory, but he didn't really mind. The time spent being with his mother, to hear more of her voice, to hear more of her laugh, to see more of her smile . . . it was all worth it.

* * *

Time served plenty of purposes to a patient man, and Itachi possessed this trait in spades. But patience and urgency often clashed, especially when the latter became too important to let time slip away the chance for him to take the leap of faith. It was his ultimatum, the moment that would define now and forever, but he was stuck between duty to his clan and duty to his village.

But time and patience no longer served him like they did before. He was now forced to take a side and he chose the village. The planned coup of the Uchiha clan must not come to fruition . . . even if he had to stain his hands with every blood of the clan to do so.

He stood on the roof of his family home, staring at the bright visage of the crescent moon as an icy gale prickled his exposed skin. Donning his ANBU uniform sans the porcelain mask, he was prepared for battle but not for the emotional wreck his heart was turning into. He closed his eyes tightly, hands turning into shaking fists, as he ground his teeth against each other. He took a deep breath through his nose and the gaps in his teeth, embracing the menthol-like feel of the cold entering his system, and let it out in a slow, calm blow.

Tonight was the night. Blood would be spilled tonight.

* * *

At nine o'clock that evening, Fugaku Uchiha was in his study, reading one of the old scrolls locked within the secret chamber of the clan head's library. It pertained to nothing much of importance; he merely picked this one up at random, hoping to pass the time until his elder son arrived.

The door to his study slid open, and the candle on his desk almost died from the invading wind. The way it flickered . . . Fugaku resisted the need to shiver. It felt like a bad omen.

"Itachi, glad you could make it," he said, and rolled the scroll up. "Have you heard anything recently about the Hokage's suspicions?"

Itachi said nothing.

"Itachi?"

He stepped to the center of the room, surveyed his study, and glared right at him, the Sharingan blazing with unequaled fury on the surface of his irises. "It ends tonight, father."

Fugaku growled inaudibly. "So . . . this is how it goes, Itachi. You chose the Senju over the Uchiha?"

"This isn't about the Senju anymore, father. You intend to gain full control of Konoha, even if it means you have to take it by force."

"I thought you were old enough to understand, but I guess I was mistaken like how I have mistaken where your loyalty lies." Fugaku leaned back on his chair before standing up, his own Sharingan activating, but unlike Itachi's, his were cold and distorted.

_A mere trick of the light_, Itachi thought, but the guess hold little merit to his gut feeling, which was churning like crazy, trying to force his fight-or-flee response to act on the latter. He unsheathed his ninja-to.

His father raised one hand, presenting it to him like he wanted him to take it. "Real power is never given." He then formed his open hand into a fist. "It's _taken_."

"You're tarnishing the Uchiha name with this injustice!"

"Injustice?" He shook his head ruefully. "No, Itachi, I am seeking justice for those who have wronged us, our clan. Madara Uchiha had been right not to trust the Senju, and we are here now to reap what we sowed. But no more. The Uchiha _will_ prosper again."

"Only in your delusions, father." He readied into a kenjutsu stance, intending to kill with one thrust to the heart.

"My poor, poor boy. Are you really ready to face your mentor, the one who taught you everything you know?"

"I've long since surpassed you."

"Only in your delusions, son." His smile was bursting with malicious intent, but Itachi didn't quiver, didn't hesitate, didn't give time for second thoughts.

It would've been wise if he did.

Itachi lunged towards his father, the tip of his ninja-to inching closer and closer to Fugaku's left chest, all while the man himself was still smiling. It was that smile that tipped Itachi off, that ignited his gut feeling to take the flight response, but he followed his instincts too late. Fugaku's Sharingan was on him, crimson red glaring at crimson red, before it began to morph into something Itachi thought to have only been a legend.

The Mangekyou Sharingan.

"Tsukuyomi," his father whispered, and Itachi's world turned black.

* * *

Fugaku exited his study, nursing his bleeding right eye, and took notice of the one waiting for him outside.

Shisui Uchiha leaned on the side of the door, arms crossed, with a stoic look on his face. "Is it done?"

He nodded. "You were right."

"I know how Itachi thinks, Fugaku-sama. I'm glad you took precautions."

"And at what price?"

"Do you regret it?"

His mind conjured the image of his sleeping wife. She was nestled on his chest, a glow on her cheeks and a smile on her lips as she bathed in post-coital bliss. It would be the last time they made love with such vigor and love, and so he savored that moment of peace for as long as he could.

He then snapped her neck. She was asleep; it was quick; it was painless. He truly loved her, which made killing her all the more important. To achieve the Mangekyou, the pinnacle of the Sharingan's hidden potential, it had to be done. Itachi had been right when he said he already surpassed his father, and the only trump the boy could possibly fall for was the use of their dojutsu's dark transcendence, one thought only to be legend and awakened from one Uchiha every century. A myth so far from the truth, yet Fugaku could understand the need for diverting the true source of the Mangekyou's awakening—killing a loved one to feel and kindle the despair and hatred and rage sealed inside every Uchiha's hearts. He understood now. His clan was cursed to the dark emotions of humanity.

Love. Family. To Fugaku, they mattered no more. His heart was wrenched from his chest when he heard the audible snap of his wife's spinal column. His heart was then skewered and left to bleed out like a struggling animal when he used his very first Mangekyou technique on his own son, forced to listen as his reverberating screams sought for someone to hear and help him out of his misery, although it was fruitless due to the soundproof walls.

Now that family tragedies were over, Fugaku rouse from the ocean of despair into a being without a heart. He thought of Sasuke, how the little boy would still be in his bed blissfully unaware that his mother was dead and his older brother was close to dead and his father had been the cause of it all, and banished the concern trying to wrap itself in whatever void his heart had once been in. There was no need to think about needless worries. Time was against him and his clan; there was none left to waste.

"Wake the others," Fugaku ordered to Shisui. "The coup will begin tonight."

Shisui's eyes widened a fraction before resettling into their stoic visage. "And what of Itachi? I don't believe you had the heart to kill your prodigy."

"He is unable to fight as he is now." That much, Fugaku was certain. But . . . "But I'm not willing to take chances. Kill him."

"Yes, sir," Shisui replied within a heartbeat, and entered the study.

Fugaku walked away, his head filled with the detailed plans he and his clansmen had formulated for their revolution. For better or worse, the Uchiha would finally strike back at the Senju and their supporters. Everything was in place.

* * *

At 3 AM, with all Sharingan eyes in the village active and battle-hardened, the Uchiha started the civil war that almost brought the end to the Hidden Leaf Village.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

I had two things to say about the Mangekyou Sharingan. First, I know some of you nitpickers will say that I got the eye position wrong (Tsukuyomi is on the left eye, blah blah blah), but I didn't. Sasuke's two first Mangekyou powers were positioned reversely in reference to Itachi's, as it is already stated quite clearly in the manga and anime. The second thing is Fugaku use of the Sharingan on Itachi. In Itachi and Sasuke's final battle in canon, Itachi stated that the only people who can destroy his Tsukuyomi illusion are the Sharingan of his family, which is how Sasuke escaped and Kakashi didn't. Here, this kind of _Priori Incantatem_ (please excuse my Harry Potter reference, but it is the closest meaning I can think of) doesn't occur. I omitted that to suit my needs in this story. I can also just simply say that it is another difference between the canon world and this alternate universe. Haha.


	13. Bittersweet Escapade

Date written: 15/07/11 – 27/08/11

Posted on FanFiction: 27/08/11

A/N: I've started working on this chapter a few days after releasing the previous one. But after a month of inactivity and with this chapter half-complete, I found it lacked plenty of stuff, so I scrapped it and remade it into this one. It took me another month to finish it all, not because I was losing inspiration, but because my school life has increased its difficulty tenfold that I was left unprepared for all of it. Seriously, if I had known that your last year in Uni will be this hard, I might've actually given more effort in my earlier years to be more prepared for it. Now I'm a very busy guy and the next update might take me another month or so to complete. Sorry guys. Can't do anything to change that; real life over fanfiction and all that jazz.

By the way, **I'VE SET UP A POLL IN MY PROFILE**. Check the Chapter Afterword for more info.

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 13 ––**

**Bittersweet Escapade**

_**The Senju Residence**_

_**2:35 AM**_

Naruto awoke to a dark room, the silhouettes of the furniture forming faint memories into his rousing brain. He gave it a few more moments to warm up before he put his muddled thoughts into action. Ah, he remembered more clearly now. He was in his room. Weird he didn't recognize it for a second there.

He checked his bedside clock and almost groaned at the time. Instead, he yawned loudly. In instances like this, he would've fallen back to sleep after drinking a glass of water from the bathroom he and his elder sister shared, but tonight didn't seem to want him returning to the embrace of dreams. It was probably because of the open door to Chiyome's bedroom that sparked some of his mind's interest when he entered the bathroom. She might have a bad habit of leaving the door open after taking a long bath and it was his turn to use the bathroom, but she always closed it when going to sleep. His logical mind insisted that he was overthinking things, and that Chiyome must've done the same routine he did earlier—waking up in the middle of the night, going to the bathroom to probably do business or drink water or maybe even both, and then forgetting to close the bathroom door. It seemed that way, but a small part of him wanted to think otherwise.

He filled up his drinking glass, chugged the water down, and returned to his bed. Sleep still eluded him, despite having an ordeal for a day. And he still couldn't get his thoughts away from Chiyome and that damned open door.

"Only one way to find out," he murmured to himself. He climbed out of bed and went to his sister's bedroom, only to find the bed empty of its owner. Surveying the room brought nothing to light—and I didn't mean because it was dark and Naruto didn't bother to turn on the lights—only more questions and a building worry entering his stomach.

The window next to her bed was open, the night breeze swaying the side curtains like skirts on a windy day. His feet pushed forward, coming to the window like they were possessed. He let them do so because they were not the only part of him that was urged to exit the house through the usual shinobi means, though this would be the first time he'd do it in Chiyome's room. One foot out, then came the other. He took a moment to bask in the steady breeze coming his way, cooling his face, his exposed hands and feet, and he let out a breath to halt the shiver awaiting release. It was unreasonably cold out and he was dressed with nothing but his blue pajamas. He idly wondered how Chiyome could handle this cold if she had gone out from here.

He imagined her being kidnapped by some foreign ninjas who had a bone to pick with the Senju. They would've gagged her after knocking her out when she returned from the bathroom. They'd put her in a sack, come out the window, and fled the scene as if they were never there.

It wasn't the most believable scenario at all.

For one thing, the perimeter surrounding the Senju residence was protected by a dome that studies the intentions of everyone who comes across it. The dome itself was keyed to the residents of the home, so if there were kidnapping ninjas, either he or Chiyome should've sensed their presence that a surprise attack would be rendered useless before it could even start.

It cemented his belief that Chiyome decided to stargaze on the roof again. The last time she did that was when she received a failed grade in her World History exam, which followed an earful scolding from their mother, who was the most disappointed out of everyone in the family. Being the eldest and direct heir to the Senju clan, Chiyome was under a lot of pressure, and their mother wished to pass on the clan name without any worry.

Channeling chakra to his feet and silently thanking one of his daydreams for giving him this idea, he walked up the wall and reached the roof. It took days to get this right, but the benefits of sticking onto any surface like all the veterans ninjas seemed to do was well worth the effort. Sitting there, the color pink and white mingling amidst the green-tiled roof, Chiyome Senju lay on her back with her eyes having that faraway look like he often had whenever he entered his daydreams. He noticed that her hair was down. No longer was it tied up by a double ponytail on the right side of her head, and her long fringes were free to terrorize her vision as the wind began to pick up. But this was a small nuisance she automatically fixes whenever it came about. The wind moved her hair, obscuring her eyes, to which she rearranged the annoying snow-white strands in a fluid and practiced motion without batting an eyelash.

"Onee-chan," he called as he sat next to her, grimacing at the slightly wet and excruciatingly cold feeling of the tiles on his bare feet.

She didn't respond right away; her eyes were going from star to star, like a child connecting dots together to form a picture. And he didn't bother calling her again to make sure he was heard the first time. Whenever Chiyome went into her stargazing, she disregarded everything in the outside world, and the only ways for one to bring her back down to earth would be to either cover up her sight of the sky or tickle her armpits (a weakness he exploited at every turn). But then, the disturber would end up facing her wrath for ruining her concentration. Regardless whether or not she believed in astrology, she still took it seriously as if it were her guide to understanding the elusive machinations of fate, so that she could one day defy them. Naruto didn't know when she started turning an interest into astrology and dream interpretations, but he was supportive, if a bit indifferent, to her newfound hobby, unlike their mother, who was as much as a realist as their Hokage.

Chiyome and Tsunade rarely met eye-to-eye these days. It must've all started when the Senju matriarch demanded to know if Chiyome had romantic or platonic attachments to Sasuke. Chiyome's silence was enough of an answer for her. Hatred ran deep between the two opposing clans, and tensions were high all the time (as he often heard in history books and from the stories their mother told about her genin days, back when the Senju had been a much bigger clan than the four-person nuclear family it was now today). The only times that a Senju and an Uchiha actually fell in love and started a family together in Konoha history was two, and in both cases, the new family was disowned by both clans, leaving them with nothing but a fictional family name to fill the gap left behind. Such were clan politics. Naruto just wished that if something _did_ occur between Chiyome and Sasuke, they wouldn't be burdened with the same incident as the previous star-crossed lovers.

_Star-crossed lovers, huh?_ he thought idly, gazing up at the night sky. _Maybe that's why she has such a fixation to the stars. The enmity between two families, the forbidden attraction of one heir to the other, it's similar to the situation of Romeo and Juliet._

"The stars are almost unreadable tonight," Chiyome said all of a sudden, reeling in Naruto's thoughts back into the visage of reality. "But whatever I _can_ decipher always spelled 'bad' in the worst ways."

"Like what?" Naruto curiously asked, shifting his legs into a crossed position to alleviate his feet from suffering any more frosty feelings with the roof tiles. They were almost numb already.

"Death," she answered, and the voice she used was neither nonchalant nor frantic. It was an impacting statement if taken out of context, but because she sometimes shared her star-formation predictions with him at breakfast, Naruto processed the info as if someone just said doomsday happened yesterday.

"And?" He also doubted that death was the ultimate prediction for tonight. There was something in her gaze that basically screamed she had more to tell.

"Uncertainty, perhaps," she murmured. Then, in a louder voice: "Chaos, disorder, anarchy. Not a bright and peaceful future I might've hoped for."

He didn't what anarchy meant, but if it was alongside chaos and disorder, it must be bad. "So chaos and death together?" he said. "Probably war." A shiver rolled down his spine. He blamed this cold weather.

"Maybe." She shrugged. There was uncertainty in her face. She lifted her upper body till she sat straight and then ran a hand from her forehead to her nape. With one chestnut eye closed, the other half-closed, she stretched her arms upward as she let out a big yawn.

"Why are you up here at this hour, Onee-chan?"

"I should say the same for you, squirt," she quipped. "I came here to clear my head, I guess."

"I think I had another dream—"

"Was it a continuation to the dream you had last night?"

"I—I can't remember." He stayed silent for a while. "Why did you have to clear your head?"

"I met Itachi after school." Her knees rose to head-level and she rested her chin on them while her arms enclosed her shins. "I don't know why but he seemed so . . . so . . . so _quiet_. It's as if he had a lot going in his mind that he can't be bothered to answer my questions."

"The guy's an ANBU captain, you know. A position like that is sure to eat up his free time."

"I know Itachi. He got promoted to that position _months_ ago, and he was never this . . . distracted, I guess. Yeah, distracted he was most certainly like, at the time."

"Do you think it's work-related?"

She shrugged again. "He never told me a thing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Like Kiba's World History exam sheet."

He smiled lopsidedly at her choice of analogy. "That's kind of unfair to Kiba," he said. "I'm sure he answered at least one question."

"Which was a stupid answer for a simple question."

"You saw it? He was so embarrassed that he burned the paper before anyone else could see it." The whole class at least knew that Kiba got a zero.

"When I came to the staff room and glanced at Iruka-sensei checking your papers. Kiba only had one answer." She snorted. "He mistook Hashirama Senju with Hoshigama Genjo."

"Hoshi . . . gama?"

"Yeah."

". . . seriously?"

"Yup."

"That Kiba." He chuckled, somehow pitying Kiba for the unbelievably dunce move he had done. To not know of the Shodai Hokage was close to blasphemy within the Konoha ninja ranks and even the Ninja Academy. If anybody else had known of this blunder, Kiba would never have been able to live that down; no one would let him. No one.

He then said, "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Huh?"

"About Itachi."

"Oh." She hummed, one finger on her lip as she gazed back onto the constellations scattered across the galaxy. "I never really gave much thought in doing something, actually."

"But it's bothering you, isn't it? If it is, then you're _supposed_ to do something about it."

"Easier said than done, you know," she shot back. "I don't know where to start. I can't understand Itachi all the time because he never lets me in."

"What do you mean?"

"His heart, Naruto, his heart," she whispered, uttering his real name with such gentle quivers from her vocal cords that he forgot reprimanding her about using it. She rarely called him with his real name (on a happier note, when they're alone, she sometimes calls him "Naru-kun" by either mistake or endearment), and in the times where she did, their conversation was plastered with utmost seriousness.

Chiyome let out a sigh through her nose. "He's hard to predict sometimes," she said. "On one day, he can be open and cheerful. On another day, he can be closed off, acting all emo-like, and almost unresponsive to outside stimuli."

"How so?" He couldn't picture an ANBU captain acting so absent-minded.

"When I flashed him my panties, he didn't even blink." She huffed at the end. "And I was wearing a sexy pair, too."

_Onee-chan_, Naruto thought, his right cheek twitching like crazy, _have you no shame whatsoever?_

"My pride as a woman was taken down a peg," she replied, followed by another huff, clearly figuring out his thoughts through the complex expression he wore. "A low-blow like that is not easily forgiven."

"Right," he drawled with a roll of his eyes. He scratched his nape and glanced at Konoha, feeling the wind picking up and brushing away his bangs. "Huh?" He suddenly stood up.

"Arashi?"

"Onee-chan, do you notice something strange in Konoha?"

"Strange?" She looked out into Konoha in the same way Naruto did, but her expression grew more bewildered almost in the same time Naruto's expression grew more agitated. "It's just Konoha at night."

"_Without_ streetlamps and the like?"

Her own expression darkened, returning to the lack of nightlife in the village, feeling a sense of forebode slithering in her stomach. Konoha had itself a rising business community in the night scene, and in the years after the Kyuubi's destruction of almost a third of the village's structures, the need for rebuilding presented a great opportunity for would-be owners of gentlemen's clubs, honky-tonk bars, love hotels, and other such venues of nocturnal entertainment to set up shop in the wake of the natural disaster. Witnessing shakeless darkness was just abnormal, even in the face of power failure, as she first suspected, because a lot of business owners invested in emergency generators. She could understand a failed generator or five, but _all_ of them in one night?

"How did we not notice this sooner?"

She saw Naruto shrug through her peripheral vision. He said, "Whoever's doing this probably did it slowly." He frowned a little, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. "No, that would be counterproductive. If they intended to shut down Konoha's power, they would've done so simultaneously. So then . . ."

"False light."

"What?"

"A genjutsu used to distract an enemy, make them believe that an extinguished light hasn't been extinguished. It's mainly for espionage missions, where covert-ops trick the enemy into thinking they have light, but once the last source of light is gone, the genjutsu is released and the enemy is forced to fight in darkness . . . the home ground of the Konoha ANBU."

"Then, it was released?"

"No, it hasn't. I can still sense the genjutsu. The only defect of the technique is the constant eye contact with the affected area. If the victim loses sight of the genjutsu—in this case, the streetlamps in Konoha—then the victim breaks out of the illusion."

"But I was inside earlier, and I recall that the lights were on."

"Because you weren't previously afflicted with the genjutsu. It's only _after_ getting afflicted that the defect can be exploited."

"So when we were stargazing . . ."

"We have unknowingly broken out of the illusion."

"But what's happening now?"

"We should go back inside," Chiyome cut in. And there was a glint in her eyes screaming at him that this order must not be denied.

Though Naruto would rather find an answer to the anomaly before them than settle back into the Senju ancestral home, he trusted his sister's judgment, and if she said that they should leave this mystery as it was, then he would follow.

But fate, it seemed, didn't want their late night stargazing to end with the faint brushes of a frightening sight. Once Naruto helped Chiyome stand up, she felt the faint grasp of the genjutsu like water droplets cascading down her goose-pimpled skin. It made her shiver . . . right before the genjutsu lost full control and was intentionally released.

Moments later, as the two stood stock still in the unbroken darkness with nothing to indicate the passage of time except their bated breaths, three separate explosions illuminated the night.

* * *

_**The Hatake Residence**_

_**3:00 AM**_

Kakashi sat up from his bed in a rush, one hand already fishing for the kunai under his pillow. His wife mimicked his movements in close synchronicity to his. Their bedroom was dark and empty of intruders; something else woke them from slumber, something much louder than a bump in the night. Another explosion rattled their floor and their ears, this one closer than the previous.

Danger senses tingling even before the second explosion erupted, their bodies raced to accommodate the new branch of sensations affecting them. Adrenaline was pumping through their veins; their hearts were beating faster and fiercer than normal; their brains and the five senses they control were becoming acute, slowing down time, enhancing the catchment of sound, increasing the sensitivity of the nerves spread across their skins. They were prepping for an upcoming battle.

Kakashi moved like lightning, racing towards the dresser where two supply scrolls contained emergency shinobi equipment: armor, kunai, shuuriken, the works. Kurenai, the more aware and vain of the duo, already picked up the thrown-about clothing they had shed hours before. In his haste, Kakashi had forgotten that he was in his birthday suit, like her.

She threw him a pair of pants, which caught and dangled on his head. Boxers were neglected; there was no time; he would have to suffer going commando.

"Won't be the first time," she murmured, going commando herself, although whether she was speaking of Kakashi's experience or hers was left to speculation.

Kakashi, in turn, threw her half of the emergency equipment, and she wore it hastily.

A third explosion rocked the night. The couple eyed each other in the darkness, broken only by the nightly illumination coming from the curtained window, though the illumination itself had an artificial glow to it as the fires from burning buildings pitched in on creating brightness on the witching hour. A hand signal later, Kakashi had his back beside the wall under the window with Kurenai on his left.

"Shall we?" he asked cordially, as if they were just about to enter a fancy restaurant for their date than to a war that seemed to have bombarded into their village within minutes.

Kurenai—sharing some of the twisted humor her husband suffered from— nodded, tilted her head, and smiled a sweet schoolgirl smile. And such an action made Kakashi's heart swoon.

"We shall," she replied, holding one kunai in the reverse-grip.

They might not know who was attacking the village, they might not know if they would survive another day once this was over, they might not be ready to face the real horror behind that curtained window, to realize that they would be forced to kill their own comrades to save the village—they might not be prepared for this battle . . . but they would still charge forward, ever the protectors of Konoha.

This was their motto.

This was their goal.

This was their life.

* * *

_**The Senju Residence**_

_**3:02 AM**_

Chiyome shoved Naruto into the window before his curious mind formed questions that were better asked within safety. Standing on the roof in their PJs was not in Chiyome's safety list.

It was when she was entering the window herself that her fast-acting mind was formulating the possibilities that led to what they had just seen and heard. The main idea was relevant and constant: Konoha was being attacked. And while she felt compelled to get armed and beat the invading party into submission, she let logic run more of her actions than her instincts. She had to think of Naruto—_Arashi_, her adopted little brother. Being the big sister meant that she was responsible for his wellbeing, and wanting to charge into a situation half-cocked and unprepared brought unnecessary risk to that responsibility. And she was also not yet an official shinobi. She was weaponless, her brother was defenseless, and the only thing keeping them safe from the attack was this house. And how much safety it could afford depended on the attacker.

"Come on, Arashi." She grabbed for his arm, but he moved away from her.

He stepped towards the window and stared into the village, watching, with unwavering interest, the initial phase of a civil war. Faint but still audible, he could hear the screams of people—civilian and ninjas alike—and the subsequent follow-up explosions, though these were babies compared to the three big bangs. His body was still in the developing stages of a Konoha shinobi, so he was still unable to hear more than faraway sounds that were like whispery voices channeling through a heavy mist. However, his instincts filled up the blanks left behind. Chiyome knew what Naruto was trying to listen to, but she didn't want him to get involved in something that was way out of their league. She, at least, understood the difference between duty and suicide.

"Arashi, don't test me," she growled, wanting to sound intimidating, but her voice sounded more like a dog growling out of fear. "Arashi!"

"Shh!" he said, facing her with a finger positioned in the appropriate gesture. "Do you hear that?"

She quieted and listened.

And then she heard.

Cries. Battle cries, to be precise, and they were getting louder and louder by the second. She turned to the window along with Arashi and cast their sight downwards, to the large gates separating the Senju ancestral home to the rest of Konoha. They couldn't see well due to the darkness, but Chiyome's sharp ears and keen eyesight picked up enough information to make an educated guess. Beyond those gates were more than three dozen armed people, carrying torches and makeshift weapons (from sickles to kitchen knives to lead pipes, they had it, of that Chiyome was sure). They were fast approaching the gates in a rallying frenzy, crying and shouting and yelling all the way, and while they sounded not at all like a group of fans vying for a celebrity's attention, they were sure as crazy as them. Only Chiyome doubted that their intentions were clearer and purer than crazy fans. The alarm connected to the dome-shaped protection of this lot had just set off, and it was skyrocketing the malevolent intent scale.

"Who did you piss off this time, Onee-chan?"

"There's a time for jokes," she said, moving away from the window, "but not right now. Come on, bro, we need to leave."

"Won't the protections in this house be enough to keep us safe?"

"No. Daddy never designed the seals to stay firm against an attack like that. For now, they're merely there to give time for a quick escape."

"But where will we go? Konoha's under attack right now."

"I don't think _every_ district of Konoha was set ablaze. I'm praying we don't have to fight once we leave this house."

"Mom and Dad—"

"Mom's in the hospital . . . _no change there_," she added under her breath, though Arashi still heard it. "And Dad won't be back to Konoha in a few more hours."

"So we're on our own?"

She winced when the protective dome broke and the mob was given free rein in destroying the wrought-iron gates. "We need to leave," she said to Arashi, "_now_."

They moved about the house in their pajamas, not even bothering to stop at the foyer to get some footwear. Both knew the whereabouts of the secret escape passage because this was drilled into them by the overprotective Tsunade, who had it installed when Chiyome was less than a week old. If ever the house was being attacked, they were ordered to leave everything behind and hightail it to the basement and enter the wine cellar. Tsunade forbid them from going down here except for when they have to use the secret passage, because kids didn't have a reason to actually be in here. Now they did, although they would've wanted to explore the place a bit more, if not for danger making them look over their shoulder every few times they felt someone—or some_thing_—glaring at their backs.

They entered the basement and turned on the lights. Beside the mass of cardboard boxes and dusty shelves stood a wooden mahogany door, varnished in darker colors that accentuated its etherealness in the darkest spot of the illuminated room. Chiyome tried the door, but it was locked.

"Where's the key?" she asked her brother, who was as clueless as she was.

Her ears captured the almost inaudible sound of metal breaking and then thudding on concrete pavement like a dribbling basketball. Minus the wrought-iron gate, at least they still had the front door, which was locked—

"Is the front door locked?" Arashi asked.

"Yeah," she said, though it almost sounded like a lie. _Locked or unlocked? Locked or unlocked? Can you be sure Mommy dearest didn't forget to lock the door again?_ With tall walls surrounding the lot and an iron gate thought to be impenetrable from civilians, with fuinjutsu as added security, locking the door almost seemed borderline paranoia to Tsunade, and it got so common that seven out of ten times, Chiyome didn't bother pulling out her keys before trying the doorknob. But with the situation as it was now . . .

At last, Chiyome recalled that the key to the cellar was in their parents' room, but that would mean going back topside, where the mob was more than likely already trying to bang through the front door and any of the windows in the ground floor. The danger just gradually increased when she theorized and concluded that the mob had more than just a few ninjas in their numbers—otherwise they wouldn't have gotten through that gate at all. Time from going up to their parents' bedroom and returning to the basement was a rough and insufficient estimate, because she didn't take into account the required time to search for the key. Apart from knowing it was in that particular room, she couldn't spark any other memory that could be relevant to learn where her mother hid it. It could be in the drawers, the armoire, the desk, or even some secret compartment she had lying around. As it was, they would have to flip the whole room upside down to find the key.

What good was a secret escape passage when the ones supposed to use it didn't access to the key? What was their mother thinking when she forgot to tell them the location of the key?

There was a loud crash followed by a dozen of breaking glass.

"They're in!" Arashi yelled.

She couldn't think; she couldn't handle this. She was collapsing from the pressure, and it was about to cost their lives. She was just thankful Arashi had closed the basement door behind them. Going topside was no longer an option—along with the chance of finding that key—so they were left with taking refuge in this dark room where a locked door led to their only salvation from this predicament. It was only borrowed time, but maybe they could make use of that small window of opportunity to fortify this basement and make one final stand.

_No_, she thought, _that won't do. I have to protect Arashi at all costs._

She saw him staring at the locked door with a frown, a frown he often used whenever he played Sudoku. That was odd in, and of, itself. There were no numbers on the clean, plain mahogany door, much less a padlock with a number combination. Nothing but a simple key-operated lock separating them from an easy escape from this deathtrap.

"Onee-chan, why can't we just break down the door?"

She shook her head. "Impossible. It's been reinforced along with the lock. And even if we combine our efforts, we'd be lucky to put a small dent on the door."

"But what about—" He stopped what he was saying and returned to frowning.

"Arashi?"

"Onee-chan, how far along are you in Mom's chakra control exercises?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Sixth level already. But how did you know—"

"Sixth might be good enough," he interrupted. He moved closer to the door and lightly beat his fist on it twice. "Combined efforts is a no-go, but a super-charged chakra punch will probably do the trick."

"I . . . I can't do that." Her ears caught the trailing of footsteps echoing above them, dust piles falling from the overhanging supports of the basement and onto her and her brother, but they made no move wipe them off. "Mom said I'm still not able to charge my punches beyond the ultimate strength of a material."

"Should that matter?"

"Yes!" she retorted. "I'd have to repeat the technique about . . . ten more times before I'd be able to breach the door, and you know my limit is just _three_."

"But you've got to try. We don't have much choice."

"Yes, we do." She pointed to the pile of cardboard boxes in the corner next to the locked door. "We fortify our position while hoping that they don't bother looking for us here."

"And if they _do_ look for us here?"

"We stand our ground and fight them."

"That's suicide, Onee-chan."

"I know!" she shouted. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know that we're so deep in _shit_ that it's not even something to laugh about afterwards?"

She knew she shouldn't be shouting so loudly, not with the presence of a mob seemingly thirsting for their deaths and looking at the upper floors. She caught more sounds from above, this one was crashing plates or brittle ceramics, which could only be the antique vases her grandmother had collected before marrying her grandfather. And then another one, a muffled statement, barely audible: "Check downstairs. I'll go up."

Her hand reached her brother's shoulders and she shoved him towards the boxes. "No time to fortify," she said, moving towards the light switch and flicking it off. "Just hide. Quick!"

Arashi was safely snugged between a box full of their old toys and two boxes containing old and molding manuscripts Jiraiya had scrapped but never had the heart to throw away. Something about sentimentality and life born within each page of the unfinished stories, never to be found, never to be acknowledged, never to be told. But right now, Chiyome could care less about the plight of fictional characters when her own life and her brother's were inches close to living their last hour. When she was sure Arashi was safe and hidden—and she made double sure that he wouldn't move an inch until she told him to—she swiftly moved about the other boxes and chose a spot next to a box filled with previous issues of a now defunct magazine her mother subscribed to in her youth. Hiding beside a collection of articles containing myriads of thoughts, concepts, and biases about fashion, men, and sex left her feeling a little vain for some odd reason—what earthly reason could she have this feeling at a dangerous moment such as now?—but she made sure to keep these things out of the forefront of her mind, where the more crucial development was given priority.

Unfortunately, just as the basement door was opened (Arashi forgot to lock it when he closed it, dammit!), she sat down too fast and it stirred a silent explosion of dust clouds onto her face. Chiyome had to physically cover her nose and mouth before the coughs, the sneezes, and the gags came close to bursting out of her traitorous facial orifices. She glanced at Arashi, but her position and the boxes made it difficult to even glimpse his blond hair hidden in the darkness.

The lights were turned on again, and Chiyome sank deeper into her hiding spot, hoping against hope that the dust clouds she erupted had already dissipated. The creaking stairs announced the arrival of at least two searchers.

"I don't see 'em," one of them, a gruff female voice, said.

"Shush!" her companion, another female, replied.

Chiyome knew that they converted to nonverbal communication for in case they were heard—although that could be scoffed and redirected as a way to salvage their intent on stealth after the first one's earlier blunder—but she was more worried about hiding than trying to find out what they were speaking of. She couldn't risk her presence, not when these two might just do a quick sweep of the basement and climb back up to the ground floor. It was a welcoming thought, one that seemed to calm her do—

Arashi sneezed.

And her blood turned cold. _No, no, no, no, no . . ._

The room was silent and the creaking in the stairs disappeared. But the overhead lights of the basement were still on. She could think of an optimistic view of this situation, that the two women had already left the basement and hadn't bothered to turn off the lights, so they hadn't heard her little brother's blunder of a sneeze, but her ninja instincts spoke otherwise. It was preparing itself for an inevitable confrontation and was projecting horrifying images of her little brother being found behind those boxes she hid him in. She could even picture how the two women would grin madly and forcefully drag Arashi back to the surface where the rest of the mob will have their share of the fun when they start killing him slowly. Stomping and stabbing and kicking and crushing his innocent little body into a bloody mess. And all Chiyome would do was stay in her hiding spot and wait for the storm to pass.

_No_, she inwardly said to herself, a statement that needed no other words to convey what she wanted to convey. And though she was still a ninja-in-training, she had at least been through half of the Academy's rigorous body conditioning system that all ninjas go through. At ten years old, she was one of those rare types whose body and chakra system could take the abuse, thereby strengthening both in the process.

She had garnered enough chakra in her system to fire off two A-rank jutsu in succession, but that was only in theory; she knew no A-rank jutsu to use. Like all other students, she was only knowledgeable of the Basic Three (Kawarimi, Henge, and Shunshin) and a few basic medical techniques Tsunade had started her in. The super strength training was just a lucky plus, but it was undoubtedly incomplete as of now. She had the chakra to pull off _forty_ chakra-enhanced punches, at the least, but her unaccustomed body and infantile chakra control—compared to her mother's—made it disadvantageous against more than three targets, because that her current limit.

But she was not backing down. Arashi was family and the only one who stuck to her even when her parents became too busy to spend much time at home. Jiraiya in his hermit-like journeys across the continent, searching for truth and inspiration while maintaining the spy network he built to bring in intel for the village. Tsunade in her daily double-shift duties in the hospital, rarely resting, rarely staying, rarely spending whatever free time she _did_ have with her family. But Arashi—_Naruto_—while not connected by blood, the bonds they forged more than made up for it. She promised to protect him, and he to her.

And she doesn't break her promises.

It might've been courageous to have such loyalty and love to a brother, but her analytical mind brought her down to earth before she started doing something rash—like coming out of her hiding place and turn all the attention onto her. She didn't have much time before those women came close to Arashi's spot. She could already tell they were close via the way their footsteps brush against the floor. They were civilians; Chiyome was certain of this. Trained ninjas would've been quieter in their approach than these two.

But that still left her with a big blank on her plan. A brash move would be detrimental, not only to her but to Arashi, who would undoubtedly come out of his hiding spot to try and save her from her stupidity, her orders for him to stay and not move be damned. If only she was more akin to her sensing abilities as the chuunin instructors had remarked during her third year. If only she paid more attention to that aspect of her skills, she would've been able to pinpoint the women's positions and gauge their attributes. If only . . .

_**Fear not, little bud.**_

Unsure of where this voice was coming from or why she was feeling calmer than she had been before, but the quality of the voice's pitch and tone made it indiscernible if it came from a man or a woman. It was like a disembodied voice echoing in her ears, with the way it spoke in utter command, power, and wisdom. Chiyome felt like she just _had_ to trust this voice.

_**The two betrayers are four paces away from the little sprout. Act quick.**_

With no weapon to hold, she could only hope that this disembodied voice knew what it was saying. Dressed in only pajamas and her long fringe constantly blocking her view (how she wished she done her hair up to the usual double ponytail right now), the best option she had was a quick simple attack strong enough to knock both women out before they could even blink.

And she knew just the technique, despite it still unfinished.

She charged both hands with chakra, steadying her breathing as quietly as she could. She needed to time this right. Too far and they'd react before she had a chance to connect her fists to their faces. Too close and she'd barely have time to aim them to the right target. Just right. It had to be just right.

_**Now, little bud!**_

Obeying the disembodied voice, she jumped out of her hiding spot, both fists cocked back and ready to fire. Chiyome gritted her teeth, her mind barely registering the shocked looks on the intruders' faces, and sent double haymakers to two cheeks. Her ears caught the sound of bones breaking, her eyes catching the bullet-time speed of the deformation of their faces accompanied by a few teeth disentangling from their gums (and she saw this as if they came from a frame-by-frame replay), her nose sensing the mild scent of the blood bursting from their noses and mouths. And as her adrenaline-induced slow-mo reached its peak, time returned to normal speed and her two opponents raced to the opposite wall like crossbow bolts. She didn't care or felt sorry when she realized she put too much power into those punches that the receivers left large indentations onto the brick wall of their basements. They were no doubt dead before they even slumped on the ground, bleeding like crazy from their equally indented faces.

Chiyome panted from the exertion, trying to reel back the rate of her heartbeat through sheer will, but any attempt to cooldown her body within seconds was as impossible as telling the sun to tone down on the heat. Her hands were already shaking, so she slid them both under her armpits. The side effects of the chakra punches were sinking in a lot faster than normal, most likely because she used two fists at the same time. Her mother always insisted that she take this training slowly due to her age—she wasn't supposed to start until she was thirteen or so.

"Onee-chan?" Arashi's whisper slashed at least three units off her heartbeat rate, but it was still bashing onto her ribs like repeated abuse from a battering ram. "Onee-chan?"

"I'm okay, Arashi, I'm okay." She moved towards him, stealing glances to the two corpses on the floor every step of the way. She knew it was irrational but her mind couldn't let go of the thought that they'd rise back up when her back was turned, intending to bring vengeance beyond the grave. There might be a grain of logic within that irrationality, though; no doubt her attack hadn't gone unnoticed to the rest of the intruders one floor up and a pack of them—this time accompanied by the ninjas in their group—would soon come down here.

"We have to get out of here," she said to Arashi, holding onto his hand and pulling him away from his hiding spot. There was a small window of opportunity for them to escape through the only open door, and every second they waste idling around could be the difference between freedom and capture.

_**Not that way, little bud.**_

"Just who the heck are you?"

Arashi took a step back from Chiyome. "Onee-chan?"

She ignored his voice of worry, waited for that disembodied voice to speak again.

_**All you need is one simple push to open the locked door. One last push.**_

Her understanding of the voice's slightly cryptic words came within a second, and it was only so because she had been contemplating it while she tried to weigh the possibility of escape through the ground floor.

Her third and last punch. After she did it, her chakra system would be at an all-time low, and any more use of it could result in her collapsing from chakra exhaustion. If she did as the mysterious voice commanded, then they might be able to get out of this house alive and well. On the other hand, getting outside didn't mean they were safe from any other threat there. Konoha was still under attack, so achieving freedom from their own home felt like less than a stepping stone to _true_ freedom. And they had to go out to that war-torn village defenseless, Arashi being a mere seven years old and her in the brink of chakra exhaustion.

They were trading one lethal situation with another that was more lethal.

_Must not hesitate_, she thought confidently, enclosing her right hand into a fist, channeling the last bits of her chakra into it, and hoping that this would work. _Here I am, trusting our lives to a voice I keep hearing from somewhere. It's either I'm going crazy or Mom's stories of guardian angels is actually true._ Either way, she was thankful for this impossible help.

She charged forward, her fist raised and over her shoulder, and delivered the final powered punch she could do for the night. Her knuckles collided with the reinforced wood and metal securing the door in place, and for one moment running at the speed of thought, her hopes began to shatter as she realized that her punch hadn't been enough to break through the door's sturdy defense. And in the next moment, hairline cracks started appearing around her fist, growing farther and farther away, their movements sporadic like vines climbing up a thin vertical structure.

She pulled her hand away from the cracked door. She expected it to collapse seconds after the impact, but such a physics-defying notion only happens in the manga she reads. No, the door was still sturdy and standing, but the dent she left behind must've destroyed the reinforcements placed into it. She couldn't pull off any more chakra-enhanced punches—she had to shake her head to swipe away the dizzy spell affecting her—but if the door went through more stress, it might just collapse as she imagined it.

"Help me out here." She relayed what she needed to her brother, who nodded and took position, his small still-developing shoulder braced forward and ahead from the rest of his body. She assumed the same position and prepared for this.

Above them, there were frantic shouts of people calling out two names, and Chiyome was sure they weren't speaking of her and Arashi. A cursory glance to the corpses brought all the answers she needed.

"On three," she said. "One, two . . . three!"

They charged forward together, hoping that the combined forces they create from momentum and strength was sufficient in eradicating the only obstacle halting their advance.

* * *

"Tsubaki! Michi!"

"They're not coming out," Kengo Uchiha stated. "No response from either even after all this yelling. The Senju siblings must've gotten to them."

"But they're only kids!" A civilian retorted to the Uchiha ninja. "How could they possibly—"

"You're forgetting that those two kids are ninjas-in-training." Kengo eyed the civilian in disgust. "Your continued ignorance of our capabilities knows no bounds, it seems."

He hated collaborating with these civilians—they knew next to nothing about the careful planning needed in exacting a perfect attack—and even before they were able to bring down the front door, the whole operation had gone astray. The original plan had been to sneak into the mansion undetected and unheard, yet some of the civies put under his command deemed it okay to carry torches and large weapons and to dash towards the Senju's home with battle cries that could awaken a hibernating bear. The torches, he could understand, since civilians didn't have the implanted night vision implanted into ninjas; the cries, he could tolerate, because he didn't really have high hopes of this operation going as smooth as when he was teamed up with his old team; the large weapons, however . . . there was a limit on how much one man could take, and these civies had no doubt already pushed it past the boundaries.

One dared to call his kunai—a weapon that had saved his life more times than he could count in his twenty years of service—a trowel. A freaking trowel! This man decided on a machete over the common, but deeply valued, weapon of ninjas, yet the man added insult to injury by deeming said weapon as a tiny garden tool.

How he _hated_ collaborating with civilians.

But not all was lost in this mission. Even as the rest searched the upper floors of the mansion while he and two others stood next to the open door that leads to the basement, the Uchiha coup was well underway. He had been assigned here to dispose of the heirs of the Senju, swiftly ending the continued existence of the next generation, thus also ending the existence of a dying breed: the Senju, their most hated enemy.

Experiencing two losses was to be expected, although Kengo wished there had been more. How he _hated_ collaborating with civies!

Being the only ninja in this mission, he was naturally assigned as the leader, but that meant little to a randomly selected, armed group of untrained Uchiha who would rather fight to the death than let the ninjas handle everything. They were the perfect liabilities in the war, but Fugaku Uchiha decided to humor them with this mission. And Kengo just happened to be their assigned babysitter. Still, this mission was as important as the other missions Fugaku gave to other veteran shinobi like him. It would've been better, saner, to have Kengo in the frontlines of the war, eradicating the opposition with minimal loss of projectile weapons and bodies. He had not become a tokubetsu jounin for nothing, after all. But Fugaku had already made plans for the coup to become a success, and Kengo's role shifted to this current one, but at least there was a silver lining to it.

He hated the Senju as much as collaborating with civies. _That_ was enough reason for him to give his all to this mission, despite it probably going to waste in a double whammy—wasted on an uncoordinated team, wasted on a couple of ninja trainees. Ah, but the latter did not happen at all. Even if they were just two civilian women, he underestimated the potential of the Senju heirs. It looked like he would have to use his little contingency plan after all.

A disturbing smile tainted his face, halting one of the civies's rant midway when he saw that.

Kengo turned to the stunned Uchiha and said, "Tell the others to get out of the house. Now."

Shaky but brave, the civilian replied, "W—why?"

Kengo looked back into the basement, hearing the distinct cracking of wood down there. "I'll be blowing this place sky-high." He patted his side pouch where inside contained about fifty demolition tags. Well . . . it _had_ contained about fifty demolition tags before they entered the premises. Now, however, the pouch could only provide three. Kengo liked to plan ahead, even if they were just contingencies. That, and he had planned on blowing up the Senju mansion from the get-go.

Going after them served no purpose. It was better to lock them in there, to die within tons of rubble if they survived the initial explosion. It seemed like a fitting end for two innocent children, and he didn't have to sully his hands with their blood.

It was only his patience that kept him from triggering the bombs right now. He hated collaborating with civies—there was no doubt about that—but they were still fellow clansmen.

* * *

The hinges gave out and the door lay askew from its designated position, a spider-web crack spreading from its center. The entry to the wine cellar was now open, and Chiyome made her first step into this room with as much grace as a bull in a china shop. Her exhaustion overcame her sense of balance, and if not for Arashi there to catch her fall, she would've landed, headfirst, onto the brick floor.

She was panting heavily, trying to form words with her mouth, but Arashi couldn't understand the gibberish she kept spouting. There was an odd sense of urgency in her tone, something that made him support her up and push forward into the cellar. The door was left as it was; it was too damaged to close behind them.

After turning two corners, she got some of her strength back to stand up and wipe the sweat pouring all over her face. With her back turned, Arashi wiped his right cheek, where most of her sweat had come into contact with. He believed it to have gone unnoticed, but Chiyome knew and didn't say a thing. She tried to remember the many turns they would have to make before reaching their destination. This cellar had been originally created as an underground training facility to work on something her great-great-grandfather, Hashirama Senju, had excelled in. Tsunade never made it clear what exactly he was working on, but revealed that nobody, not even his own brother, knew what this place was for, because he died before the cellar was finished. With no more purpose or need for an underground training facility, Tobirama Senju decided to convert it into a cellar, despite the corridors being too much in length and number for every wine bottle in Konoha to occupy. Not to mention that the whole place was built using chakra-enhanced wood Grandfather Hashirama grew by himself; the only masonry that came to this place was the floor.

In their situation now, Chiyome still had to navigate her little brother through this maze-like room to reach the escape passage. Plenty of rights and lefts to remember, and she just hoped her mnemonic technique came through for her. She hadn't practiced it in a while.

"Will you be okay?" he asked.

She nodded crisply and took a deep breath. Exhaling through her mouth, she looked at her little brother and replied, "For the moment. I'll rest once we get to the passage."

Easier said than done, however. Her legs felt like jelly, her vision was a little blurry, therefore unreliable (even with night vision, because Arashi didn't bother turning on the lights), and her head couldn't stop aching, as if she were being given experimental brain surgery without any anesthetic. But she didn't dare show weakness in front of her brother. If she started acting weak, then he'd worry more for her than himself, and she didn't want that. They were still far from safe; a momentary distraction could be fatal.

"Let's go."

Off they went, taking sharp turns in L- and T-shaped corridors, never bothering to browse through the empty shelves where there should've been bottles upon bottles of rich wine and other such alcoholic beverages. There had been a lot near the entryway, but once they delved deeper into the maze the cellar had become, the only thing occupying the shelves were dust and cobwebs. It didn't leave a lasting impression on Chiyome, but it did let her realize that if they had even one simple mistake in their directions—just one wrong turn—they would be stuck inside this cellar with no light, no food, and no water. They'd die when they came so close to escaping the clutches of the bad people after them.

"Onee-chan, it's the left, not the right," Arashi said.

"No, no, it's left. Left!"

"But I remember Mom showing us that it's to the right."

This argument just accentuated her fear, and as the doubts started to swell, her mnemonic memory of the secret passage's whereabouts were becoming hazy. Was it left, was it right? Which was it? Which was it? One wrong move and it's bye-bye freedom. Arashi continued to insist that it was to the right, and she couldn't take it anymore.

"SHUT THE _FUCK_ UP!"

Arashi was forced into silence and the look in his eyes told Chiyome that he was unsure on how to process this. She rarely shouted at him so heatedly like this, and though she didn't have a mirror to look at herself, she somehow knew her face had contorted into something she'd rather not have Arashi see at all.

When his lips moved to speak, his words never got the chance to come out when a loud explosion rocked the cellar. She tried to regain her balance, but a sequence of explosions followed the first, which tipped her off the edge of her feet. Again, Arashi caught her in time before she landed on the floor, but even he was close to slipping when the next salvo of explosions sounded, and felt, bigger. Another kind of fear wrapped around her heart and it was this fear that propelled her next course of action.

She stood on her two feet again, grabbed Arashi's hand with a powerful grip that made him yelp, and dashed at the right of the T-shaped corridor. Left or right, she didn't give her mind to think which direction to take. All it thought off was _run, run, run, get away!_ Her fear had merit, though, and if she hadn't realized the severity of explosions happening so close to the cellar, they would've ended up buried alive by the collapse of the cellar ceiling and the rocks and soil it was tasked to support.

Another collapse occurred just behind them, and Chiyome almost slipped from a lone rock rolling forward and getting under her heel when it was about to hit the floor. She regained it in time and doubled her pace, Arashi following closely behind without a word to say. Now that she had time to think a bit while getting away from subsequent ceiling collapses, she wished she had thought things better when she could. They were running for their lives inside a maze, and there was no telling if their next turn could be a new set of turns or a dead end. If it were the latter case . . .

She didn't ponder too deeply as much of her brain activities was centered on getting her body pumped up for the exertion she was about to do. The ceiling yards away from them was collapsing, and there were no turns for them to take before they reach that point. She considered backtracking, but immediately discounted when she heard the sounds of wood breaking from behind them. Her hand tightened around her brother's hand.

"Run for it, Arashi!"

There were no other words to indicate her intentions. Arashi took the orders in stride, trusting her completely for what they were about to do: dash straight forward and hope they could make it beyond the collapse before the earth burst through the opening.

They were reaching the safe point itself when the roof gave way and collapsed under them.

Chiyome dove forward and got onto the other side with minimal injuries, but she had to spit the taste of moist soil out of her mouth. She paused for a moment and felt happy knowing she had gotten through.

"Ara—"

Eyes widening, mouth forming a mortified gasp, and legs already backtracking to the mass of earth that blocked the way they came, her words died in her throat when she saw a kid's arm sticking out from under that mass of earth. She dug her hands into the earth, furiously splitting apart the accumulating soil, barely realizing that there were more explosions coming from above and the vibrations resulting from them was disturbing more of the compressed soil. The mass of earth was growing as more soil and rocks filtered in from the small hole, but the hole itself was growing wider and wider, the wood splintering and cracking in places, as more forces were acting on it beyond its ultimate strength. It would not be long before another collapse occurred in the same place.

Chiyome noticed none of this; she was staring at the white little arm, unmoving and unresponsive, no matter how many times she shouted his name and slapped the forearm to receive a sign that he was alive or at least conscious. She didn't check for a pulse (she was panicking; she wasn't thinking straight). All she could do was dig, dig, dig, when her life was in danger as well.

"You won't get to him in time, little bud," a voice behind her whispered. A voice she recognized. She whirled her head around, staring directly into the darkness, where a cloaked individual stood tall and still.

"You . . ." It was all she could say before fatigue overcame her senses, and she fell to the floor with one more word fleeting from her mouth: "No . . ." It was weak, and barely enough vibrations had come from her voice box to fully articulate it to be heard. She didn't believe she was heard, but that mysterious stranger moved forward, and she caught a glimpse of his glowing eyes.

Gray. No whites, just gray. And ripples, like a circle within a circle within a circle, with small dots for the pupils.

Through the shadows of this stranger's hooded cloak, Chiyome also glimpsed a smile on his pale lips. "Sleep now, little bud. Your part here is over."

As if commanded by a genjutsu, Chiyome succumbed to the whispers of the Sandman.

_Naruto . . ._

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

I've set up a poll in my profile about what I will write in Chapter 15 (not 14, because I still have to continue the cliffhanger I made, right?). Let me first explain the reason for the poll. When I first started out the events of the Uchiha coup, I thought I didn't have to write much about it—my estimation was two or three chapters before the next arc comes up—but like any other story in my mind, it grew as it percolated inside there. Today, it was demanding more scenes, more actions, and more individual developments than I first fathomed. I thought of an event course for Kakashi and Kurenai (as you've glimpsed in this chapter, and you might also glimpse some more in the next), another for Tsunade in the hospital, for Jiraiya on his way to the village, for the Sandaime and his forces once they garnered enough people to retaliate, for Danzo and his Root ANBU (yes, I actually made something for _him_, of all people; go figure), and for Sasuke and what he will do when he realized the treasonous acts of his clansmen. There are still a few more I can mention, but either they're less important than the rest or their roles are too secretive to reveal right now (I'm still pondering whether to include one particular character into the mix earlier than I originally planned).

So you've read what my mind conjured up in my months of absence, but there is still the matter of settling something. I can't possibly write all of this just to satisfy one particular arc. If I did, we'd be in 2012 and my story past the 200k limit and I would still be writing the many viewpoints of the characters affected in the coup. So that's where the poll comes in. Naruto will still play the main part of this arc, no doubt about that, but I also like to see if any of you are interested in hearing the stories of the other characters. Should I write two or three of the other characters' stories or should I just stick to Naruto's viewpoint and slip some of their storylines in nonchalant passing in the chapter breaks? It's for you to decide.


	14. Konoha at War

Date written: 27/08/11 – 11/09/11

Posted on FanFiction: 12/09/11

A/N: Only 18 voters voted in the poll. Disappointing, but I don't mind. Well, maybe a bit, but there's nothing I can do about it anyway. Still, I'm surprised at who got the top place, and I'm already working on the next chapter with that particular character in mind. Don't worry, though, the poll will still be open. At least until I reach about fifty percent completion for Chapter 15. So if you haven't voted yet, I suggest you vote now.

Be forewarned, Homura and Koharu are a little OOC, mostly because their appearance time in the series are so low that I couldn't very well get an excellent grasp on their personalities, other than the fact that they acted like arrogant ass-wipes during the Pain Invasion arc and are so militant and detached (so unlike their teammate, Sarutobi) that I often wonder how the Nidaime went wrong with them when his third student turned out fine. Must be Hashirama's influence, I guess. So here I am apologizing in advance, because some people out there might actually like these two and I'm not giving proper justice to their characteristics, but I have no choice. The muse speaks of them that way, I write them that way. And to be impertinent to the muse is, oftentimes, "creativity suicide." Danzou will also be OOC, but that's because I'm adding artistic license into the mix (along with blaming the AU-ness of the world, hehehe) and tried to make him a little more tolerable. His wider characterization than the other two struck me in deeper places. I think of him as a patriot, but a patriot with questionable means and agendas. He tried so hard to do what he believed to be the best course of action for the good of Konoha, but most of these decisions were more damaging than helping. That, to me, describes the one-armed geezer perfectly.

* * *

–– **CHAPTER 14 ––**

**Konoha at War**

_**Senju Residence's Wine Cellar**_

_**3:41 AM**_

Nagato stepped closer to the sleeping Senju heir with a raised hand, his fingers engulfed in a pale blue light, like how ninja puppeteers' fingers lit up when they use chakra strings. He rarely used mind-altering jutsu—one of the unrefined techniques he knew of, progenitors of the advanced mind jutsu of the Yamanaka clan—but this situation called for delicateness and a subtle touch in its method as well as execution. His tampering with the timeline was like a virus infecting the body. It wouldn't take long for the immune system to kick in and banish him from this reality. A temporary solution at best, yet it was still a nuisance.

There was also an added command inside this jutsu, as his glowing fingers circled Chiyome's dirtied forehead. He hoped that it was small enough of a change that it could pass unnoticed by any timeline regulator that reared its ugly head at this certain point. As it was, Nagato found it difficult to enact much of his meddling when the timeline was finding more and more ways to keep its path pretty much straightforward. Fatalism was a word he used sparingly—but always with contempt—and a concept he'd rather live without. And while he felt hypocritical, trying to control someone's life like Fate did to the rest of the populace, he didn't think he could stop. The machinations of fate were working too quick, too hasty, just to arrive at that pivotal moment in Naruto's life wherein less and less decisions could divert the timeline to a colossal curve, a far cry from its straight and simple path.

"Guide him out, little bud," he said to the sleeping girl, and made his way to the hill of dirt that came from the wrecked ceiling.

There was a tiny arm sticking out from the bottom of the pile.

He knew the child would not live long if he stayed under there for long, but to defy more of Fate and involve himself in this reality would cause an unneeded alarm. Delicateness, subtleness, he required both for this moment.

He didn't really worry for the boy's wellbeing—not in the callous sense, though. He didn't really worry because he already foresaw that the boy would turn out fine in the end, whether Nagato helped him out or not. To worry would just be a waste of time. But his being here did not simply consist of him giving the Senju siblings a helping hand. Like any action he made to have the timeline arrive at his desired outcome without changing anything too much, there was a motive behind it. Nagato helped Chiyome through that scuffle in the Senju basement not because he grew a conscience, but because he wanted things to play out just like this—both of them inside this cellar and with Naruto buried alive under the earth.

This would be the first of many experiments to come. While the Child of Prophecy stayed cautious of him (for now), Nagato would use this time he had to better prepare his future plans. The results of this experiment would help greatly to what he had in store for Naruto in the years to come. It wasn't 'timeline tampering' _per se_, but it should be. A simple push was all he needed to set the right chess pieces in place, and now he was close to checkmating Fate.

"No rest for the wicked," he said, a grim smile on his face.

He crouched low, lifted the Naruto's pale hand, and channeled his chakra into it. His purpose done, he set the hand down, walked back into the darkness, and disappeared.

Seconds after he left, Chiyome was beginning to stir awake just as Naruto's finger's twitched to life.

* * *

It wasn't easy reintegrating his senses when he was feeling like he was crushed between two boulders and the feeling was getting worse as seconds ticked by. He was unaware how he came to this situation when the last bits of his recent memory showed him sitting in the kitchen with a large bowl of miso ramen in front of him, chopsticks still in the middle of being snapped apart. From oncoming bliss to undeserved levels of pain, Naruto found such a change to be the suckiest way for him to start the day.

Was it really day, though? It was unusually dark. No, his eyes were closed, and something in his gut told him that he shouldn't open them just yet. He tried to move, but he found that the only one not bound to the pressure coming from above him was his right arm, and that was pushing descriptions in a slight exaggeration. Despite it being free, its motor abilities were somehow limited and the feeling in it was slowly ebbing away, as if it were dying.

He tested his fingers experimentally and felt relieved to realize they were still very much responsive. From his fingers up to his wrist, every bit of his motor skills came out fine. It was trying to lift his arm that was the problem, it seemed. But still, a question was disturbing him. How did he get here?

"Arashi!" a muffled voice from somewhere called out. "Arashi! Hang on, I'll get you out!"

Naruto would've liked to respond to that voice, but he couldn't move his lips. All he could really do was wait.

"Don't die on me now, you hear me?"

That voice sounded familiar. Naruto just couldn't place a face for it yet.

"We didn't come this far just for you to die like . . . like . . . like some old prospector in an abandoned mine or something."

He couldn't help chuckling. As if he would let himself die by being buried alive. Though he had to question the chances of him dying a second time; normally that wasn't possible, right?

Naruto didn't have answers; just more questions. And he hoped that whoever was trying to get him out possessed those answers.

Minutes passed as he listened to the sounds of labor and earth being dug out, like gophers burrowing. His position was getting a little uncomfortable, it was getting much harder to breathe, and his free arm had gone completely numb from any sensation. He realized now that the circulation going into it had been cut off by the earth holding him down. He feared that if it was left as it was for too long, there might not be a chance for the blood to return there without a medic in hand, and he really doubted there was a medic somewhere near here. His own knowledge of medicine was miniscule at best (disinfecting, suturing, cauterizing, bandaging, and the like was all he could do; no ninjutsu involved), so he wasn't about to take chances in becoming disabled, not when they were in imminent danger. Naruto didn't know why he came to this conclusion, only that it sounded right that they were.

With these thoughts in mind, Naruto did what he thought could help jump start the flow again. He channeled chakra—very potent chakra—into his arm and let his muscles contract until there was enough room for his arteries to enter, and his veins to exit, the blood into his arm. There was this pinprick sensation, like his nerves were going haywire from the sensation of passing blood, and everything else was returning. This muscle contraction technique, however, was only a temporary solution. Putting too much strain into the muscles without needed rest could spell more damages to his arm than having the blood cut off from its circulation. Maybe.

He released the contraction technique and his arm was once again subjected to unrelenting pressure that stopped the natural flow in his veins and arteries. A mere second later, the pressure was lifted when his savior dug through enough earth to let his face and shoulder surface. There was still more work to be done, but he was at least thankful that he no longer needed to ration the air. He shook his head violently to rid it of the dirt sticking onto his sweaty face and inhaled mouthfuls of much needed oxygen.

"Thanks," he said to his savior, "you saved me there."

"We still need to get your lower body out, though," she replied, and continued to dig through the earth.

Naruto might not have officially met her—or seen her in two years, if he took his coma into account—but that white hair was a dead giveaway. There weren't any other girl she knew with that hair color and style.

"Chiyome?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him oddly for some reason. "Chiyome?" It was a question directed at him, a question that had no hints or indications of what it implicitly conveyed, and Naruto had no idea how to answer.

"Uh . . ."

She shook her head dismissively. "Never mind. Call me that again and we'll be talking disciplinary actions later."

That sounded like a bad thing, so he just agreed to her. If he remembered from the recent memories he dug into, when he realized he had been gone for two years in this world, Arashi Senju—Aka-Naruto's new alias—always called Chiyome his 'Onee-chan.'

"Onee-chan," Naruto tried out experimentally, feeling like his tongue had been accustomed to this word from so many daily usage that he shouldn't be surprised at all.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing." He decided not to say anything else.

When Chiyome got far enough in her digging to free his other arm, he told her to stop and let him handle the rest. With both hands free, it was easy to do what he had to do. He formed his trademark cross-fingered seal, making Chiyome to look at him oddly seconds before he activated the technique.

"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"

Smoke bellowed from nowhere and when it dissipated, three other Narutos were in existence. It was the first time he was able to catch a glimpse of himself, and he didn't bother stopping the grin that came onto his face. The blond hair, the cerulean shade of his eyes, the tanned skin. He was back to the original Naruto Uzumaki, all save for the whisker marks, but that was a small price compared to having _most_ of his original identity back. It felt good.

But then reality sank in, and the questions he conjured found their answers from his clones. He felt pain from the earth; he lost feeling in his arm from the lack of blood; he was meeting Chiyome, the daughter of Tsunade and Jiraiya, face-to-face; his features had seemingly returned to what they once were. He should've realized this sooner. Yet . . . the last question that couldn't be answered from these facts alone was the most important one of all: How did this happen?

It was possible that he and Aka-Naruto had switched places, with him now being the dominant soul in this body, the one who could control the outside world. A part of Naruto was elated and happy; another was apprehensive and bitter, as if this was something he hadn't deserved. And why should he deserve this? He already died and his body burned to a crisp from the suicidal explosion he detonated, killing not only himself and Madara Uchiha, but also hundreds of innocent civilians who were in the blast radius.

But here he was, in control and feeling everything his nerves was sending to his brain. And when his clones began to pull him out of the earth, he could feel the joints in his shoulders straining to stay where they were and not be detached as easily as the joints of mannequins. His clones succeeded in getting him out, and he dispelled them with a one-handed ram seal before he turned to Chiyome, who was gaping at him.

"Na—Naruto?"

Another memory sparked in his head, something about calling him that was forbidden, but they were alone so he could let it slide. Besides, his _counterpart_ was used to the Arashi moniker, not him; he would rather be referred to as Naruto than Arashi.

"Yeah?" he said, acting nonchalant, as he dusted his dirty pajamas. Maybe he had gone a little overboard by using an A-class kinjutsu technique when his supposed age was barely old enough to do the Basic Three correctly.

"How . . . how did . . ." She went silent and continued gaping.

"Come on, it's not that big of a deal, right?" He tried to play it off as much as he could, but even he was not blind or deaf to his own horrendous attempt. It took every ounce of willpower not to grimace when Chiyome began to give her 'The Look.' That scary look every woman seemed to possess when they want something from a man, and they would not stop until they got it. He should know; Sakura and Tsunade used it on him all the time after a pranking stunt, trying to goad him into confessing and they didn't even need the use of words.

"Don't play it off, squirt," she said to him, arms crossed. "How did you make copies of yourself like that? You never told me you could do that."

_That . . . sounds a little odd_, he thought, repeating her question in his head. _It's as if she doesn't know about the Bunshin no jutsu._ He could understand if her wording had been like, 'How did you make _solid_ copies of yourself?' or 'You never told me you can do a _Bunshin_!' but he heard nothing of the emphasized words, and that was enough to ring warning bells.

"It's the Kage Bunshin no jutsu." To test the deeper waters, he had to play dumb. "It's a forbidden variation of the Bunshin no jutsu."

"Bunshin . . . no jutsu?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"You mean you've never heard of this technique?" Pieces of the puzzle were coming together.

Chiyome shook her head, then scratched it. "I don't think so. I would've remembered something as useful as that, you know. So where _did_ you learn it?"

He didn't think he'd be prepared for more surprises, but this new revelation took everything out of his system, leaving him more than a little stunned by the end of it. He was no fool to believe that the Bunshin no jutsu was probably designated into the higher ranks of jutsu, so an Academy student like his counterpart and Chiyome should not know of it, but then what was the purpose in upping the Bunshin no jutsu's rank? An intangible clone was next to useless unless it was used as a basis for the more advanced variations, where any chuunin and jounin could learn with relative ease. It had to be learned in the Academy, but if what Chiyome said was true . . . no . . . no jumping to conclusions yet. He just needed one more tidbit of information.

"What are the Basic Three?"

"Huh?"

"What are the Basic Three?" he repeated, his tone monotonous.

"Kawarimi, Henge, and Shunshin," she answered with a raised eyebrow again. "Why are you even asking, especially at a time like this?"

_Substitution, Transformation, and Body Flicker. In my world, the Body Flicker is an advanced technique given only to chuunin and up. Genin were not allowed to use them, unless they manage to learn it on their own._

"Ah, I see, you're trying to get out of answering my question, aren't you?"

_So if the Bunshin had been replaced with Shunshin, does that mean Bunshin took the Shunshin's place? No, no. No matter how I see it, placing Bunshin into the higher ranks is counterproductive. Unless, of course, that . . . the Bunshin no jutsu and all of its variants do not exist in this world._

_. . ._

_. . . nah. _

"Arashi!"

"Huh?"

"Pay attention when I'm talking, baka!" She hit him in the head. Hard. "How many times have I told you?"

"I must've lost count," he answered without thinking it through, and he winced.

Fortunately, Chiyome just cracked her knuckles, one eyebrow twitching, sighed through her nose, and turned around. "Come on, best to keep moving."

Relieved that she opted for escape before retribution, he asked her, "But to where?"

"The way out of here, of course." She pointed ahead of them where the tunnel continued into total darkness. "I know we're close. I can feel it."

"How are you sure?" He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but fragments of fresh memory in Arashi's head showed him that Chiyome had gotten them lost when the support beams began to collapse.

She panned her head at him, opened her mouth, and closed it without saying a thing. There was something bugging her, and he was curious to know. "Uh, now that you've mentioned it . . ."

"It's probably your woman's intuition or something." He didn't want to sound like a smart-ass, but he couldn't help stating that out loud. But contrary to what he believed Chiyome would do, she took the declaration in stride and returned to pondering, all while she dragged him deeper into the tunnel—corridor, he corrected himself, it was a corridor in this maze-like cellar.

"I don't know how," Chiyome said, her back to him, so he couldn't discern the expression on her face. "I just know that this is the right way."

She needn't say anymore, because that concern meant little now that he had gotten up to speed to the current situation. It was funny how he had better access to his counterpart's memories when he was in control of this body when before, he had to traverse through many sectors of the mindscape to reach the Memory Tower. But he'd rather not get used to this right away. After he dealt with the threat looming in Konoha in any way he could—subtlety be damned, this was his home!—he needed to start finding a way to reverse this thing that happened between him and Arashi.

_In hindsight_, he thought in passing, _if I had waited for my consciousness to synchronize with my counterpart's memories, I might not have had to ask Chiyome the Basic Three question._

It aroused suspicion; no use crying over spilled milk.

They stopped near a four-way intersection, all three other passages glooming in darkness like the path they just took, and Chiyome turned towards the ceiling. "There it is."

Thanks to Arashi's memories, Naruto understood the meaning right away. They were finally at the exit—_under_ was the better preposition, though. Shrouded in darkness, but clearly seen through their night vision, the metal circle above them looked like a manhole on the wrong side of the ground. It looked sealed and secured, much like the reinforced door Chiyome and he had burst open what seemed like hours ago. Opening it up, however, happened to be a walk in the park compared to their previous obstacle. They just needed to smear some of their blood into the center of the circle, where a hidden lock-seal was drawn by Jiraiya, to open it. The only problem now was . . .

"How do we get up there?" Chiyome inquired, positively stumped in what they should do to reach their goal. The last time they had been instructed to get to the manhole, there was a ladder to help them climb. The ladder wasn't gone but forgotten back in the basement. It completely slipped their minds to take it with them when they entered the cellar. Urgency and panic often did that.

There was no chance for them to return there and get it now, so Chiyome tried her hardest to think of an alternate method, but wound up with nothing to opine.

Naruto, however, had already thought of something. And instead of telling his adopted sister about it, he acted on it immediately. He ran to the corner of the intersection, jumped, and glued his feet onto the wall. Reaching the manhole then became a piece of cake.

"Wha . . . huh?"

He was too busy pricking his thumb and administering the needed amount of keyed blood to the seal for him to smirk at the flabbergasted face of the ten-year-old whitehead. Smirking like a smug bastard was likely an immature thing to do, but when was the last time he had done so? It wasn't like he had an everyday chance of surprising people into speechlessness when they finally became accustomed to his 'expect the unexpected' ways, and that was exactly what happened to most of his precious people. Honestly, he missed the feeling, and by God, it still felt as good as before.

_Hey, maybe the ninjas here don't know the tree-walking technique either_, he thought, shaking his head at his own teasing. Arashi's memories contradicted that belief faster than he had a chance to blink once.

The lock-seal accepted the offered sacrifice and unlocked itself. Naruto pulled it open and surveyed the inside. Nothing but darkness and metal rungs embedded into the concrete surrounding the cylindrical passage.

"We're almost out of here, Onee-chan." It was still weird how that word rolled off his tongue without hesitation.

"When did you learn to stick to walls?"

"Talk later. Escape now."

"But I don't know how to walk up walls yet." She sounded like she wanted to add something after that, but ultimately didn't.

Naruto, however, guessed easily enough what it was. There was an expression in her eyes that often mirrored his own when Ero-sennin—the pervert from his world—had asked if he got a technique down but really hadn't. She was just getting started on the tree-walking exercise, despite it being a mid-level technique designated for genin and above, not Academy students. Of course, him using it right now was like a slap to the educational system and Chiyome's pride. Naruto neither minded nor cared.

"Then I'll carry you up here," he said, unaware that he was adding insult to injury to the Senju heir's wounded pride.

Looking she'd rather concede to this one-up by her little brother than stay here for a little longer, she agreed with his suggestion. "You won't let me fall, right?"

"Of course not. I promise."

She looked a little apprehensive and hesitated when he offered her a piggyback, but she climbed onto his back anyway. She was left with no choice. "Okay, get me up there."

They climbed this secret passage, with Naruto slamming the seal behind them.

* * *

_**The Uchiha District**_

_**3:37 AM**_

There was darkness. There was pain. There was hate. They swirled together like an odd mixture of water, oil, and gasoline. They were together, but at the same time, they were separate. Entities with no hope of bonding with the other, yet they more than made up for it by keeping each other homogenous and pure from the other. That kind of mutual understanding was close to breaking when the darkness, the pain, and the hate began to morph their elements into one potent emotion, an emotion so tangible in essence that it might as well be the progenitor of vengeance.

Wrath.

A deadly sin to possess, and Itachi Uchiha possessed it abundantly.

After experiencing the full frontal force of his father's Tsukuyomi attack, he was weakened in both body and mind. It did not, however, damage his drive to complete his assigned mission. No matter what the cost to his health, he wanted to end this tragedy now before any more people could get hurt. Sadly, even with the help of Shisui partially nursing him to health and lessening the painful side effects of Tsukuyomi, he was unfit to exact retribution to the starters of the coup d'état, much less to stand on his own two feet. He never thought he'd end up this weak in such a crucial moment.

"Don't move too much," Shisui said, a wash cloth in his hand saturated with a special herbal remedy for his eyes. "The Tsukuyomi did a lot of nasty things to your retinas, Itachi."

He grunted his reply. His hands were clenched into fists.

They situated themselves inside a small storage room well away from the house in which the tragedy of this night had really begun. There were candles strewn about, illuminating the room with an orange ambience that other colors were almost indistinguishable to the dominant one. Even with a small barred window, the place smelled of decade-old dust and air, never leaving, never changing . . . and never good for the sinuses. When Shisui placed him in this room, under a bedding that Shisui didn't bother dusting out first, he was slightly delirious and succumbing to the magnitudes of pain introduced to his mentality. It was here that Shisui tried all he could to nurse him back into a remnant of his rational self. He succeeded, but Itachi hated his current state.

Shisui pressed the cloth to the patient's right eye, leaving it there for three seconds, and moved on to the left eye. "You're lucky I got you out of that looped illusion quick enough to not leave any lasting damages to your psyche."

"Not quick enough, I'd say," Itachi quipped, though that was probably more of a barb than him trying to make a joke. Shisui, more of an optimist, took the sentence as a joke.

"Joking at a time like this," he said with a lopsided smile. He returned the cloth to Itachi's right eye. "You never cease to surprise me, my friend."

"I aim to please."

"Sarcasm this time? My God, Itachi, if you experiencing a mind-crumbling, powerful illusion are all it takes to awaken your inner joker, I would've done that to you months ago."

"He had the Mangekyou." It was an accusation, not an observation. There had been a smug air around his father when he confronted him, as if the man already knew he was there to kill him. He tried to hide it well, but Itachi saw it nevertheless. The only people who knew he was secretly working under the Hokage were Danzou, the Third's advisors, and Shisui. The prime suspect had already been concluded.

Shisui, whether or not realized the implications and accusations Itachi was throwing his way, looked at him straight in the eye—his Sharingan blazing while he, Itachi, couldn't channel chakra into his own eyes without feeling like he were dousing them with acid—and then looked away. He deactivated the clan doujutsu and resumed looking at him.

Itachi waited for Shisui to give him an answer; Shisui thought hard on what to say without giving Itachi a chance to dissect his words one-by-one like a crafty lawyer waiting to disprove a witness in cross-references. It wasn't as if he had anything to hide—no, wait, he did, but he was trying to exclude it from their conversation for a reason.

Itachi valued family almost as much as he valued peace and the welfare of the village. The guy just experienced a fierce psychological attack from his own father and with the Mangekyou Sharingan no less. He should be as knowledgeable of the myths and actual truths _behind_ those myths as Shisui to deduce how his father had attained such accursed eyes. And if there was a chance that Itachi hadn't, that he had no clue that in order to acquire those sets of eyes, one needed to either kill their best friend . . . or murder their own flesh and blood . . .

Itachi and family went hand-in-hand, and when he had prepared himself to massacre the clan alone (a foolhardy and reckless move; arrogant too, when Shisui thought more about it), he sealed away his feelings and decided to start with his own father. His blood would be the sign Itachi needed to know that his preparations for this morbid task were not wasted. That plan was foiled before it even really started.

And now here they were, inside an old shed that smelled of rotten vegetables and rat piss, covered in dust and cobwebs everywhere. It all came down to one unprecedented factor that Itachi never considered and so was left unguarded to the consequences.

"He had the Mangekyou," Itachi repeated, his voice fierce, commanding. It was the voice of the ANBU captain in him.

"Yeah," was Shisui's guarded reply. He said nothing more, despite his friend's nonverbal request for an elaborate explanation. A mild gale entered through the open windows and disturbed the tranquil, upward stances of the candles surrounding them. They danced and wavered and assumed their former places. A part of Shisui wished he were as sturdy as the candles made themselves out to be; no matter where the wind attacks, the fires in the candles will always return to their places after the wind recedes. Yet a part of Shisui also acknowledged that such sturdiness was nothing more than superficial fantasy, because a stronger gale could easily wipe out the flames.

Darkness engulfing everything once the fire and its embers fade away into the void . . .

He hoped that their Will of Fire wasn't as weak as this. They would need it now more than ever.

"Shisui." Brightened by the light of the candles, Itachi's face warped itself into an intimidating personage. Subtle and quick, there were hardly any changes in his expression, but a master of reading faces and body languages (like Shisui) could see it a mile away. "You're hiding something."

This time, it was a fact he stated, not an accusation, not an observation. And—_I don't believe this_, Shisui thought—his will was slipping off the edge, and if it were to tumble down that imaginary chasm like deadweight, he might end up telling this injured boy—a boy like him, a boy who lost his innocence not from the battlefield but from the family he was raised by—everything. He would tell him everything.

But he didn't want to. Not now. It was getting hard to resist; he had to look away from those piercing black eyes.

"Shisui," he called, but Shisui didn't listen.

He stood up and went for the door. "I'll check the outside. Need to make sure this place is deserted."

"Shisui." His voice had a sharper edge than before, but Shisui kept moving.

Itachi didn't have yet the strength to stand up and confront his fellow clan-traitor about all that had happened from the time this all started. He couldn't do a thing but lie on a dusty mat and wait for the next opportune moment for interrogation, though that next moment would also include him being able to use his limbs again. Despite his best friend's prognosis and suggestion (more like order) to rest and not get involved with this bloodshed anymore, he made a commitment to Konoha that he'd protect it, even at the cost of his own life. And if he were to be sluggish and relatively disabled and disadvantaged once he recuperated enough strength to stand, then he would fight to the death in that condition. There was no stronger dishonor than letting others fight your own battles.

This was his mission, his battle. He'd be damned before he stayed here and let Konoha clean up his mess.

He tried to move his arms, but they were unresponsive. Hands were the same way. Fingers weren't. They twitched and moved according to his command. It was a slow start but a start nonetheless.

"Now, Itachi," he whispered to himself, "move onto your hands. Move your hands and get this over with."

Outside, the moon was painted an ominous red, a color mirroring the current state of the village.

* * *

_**Konoha General Hospital, 3**__**rd**__** Floor**_

_**3:15 AM**_

Tsunade would've liked to carry a pocket watch with her at all times if she had the luxury of owning one. Due to their rarity, only nobles of high stature, be they in the well-known Land of Fire or the obscure and faraway Land of Snow, could actually afford them. They were relics from olden times, recovered from the earth and restored to their former glory as tellers of time. The many things she could accomplish if only she had a clear grasp of time and how to manage it gracefully.

But on the third floor corridor of this hospital, watching through the window the fires of Konoha burning bright like ominous beacons on a dark night, she just wished she knew when everything started going to hell. Her skills in telling time through the sky were not accurate without the sun; the moon made a lousy substitute nine times out of ten. Apart from wanting to know the elapsed time of the chaos engulfing her beloved village, she sought comfort from having a definite projector of the current time. Because from the moment chaos erupted, following the explosions that shook the night, she summoned two slugs and ordered them to check in on her children. There were plenty of preconceptions of slugs being the worst in courier service (snail mail, most would jokingly say), but few had ever come across her summoning slugs. They were as different from their normal species as the other summoning animals populating Konoha. When she wished for a message to be delivered or a matter to be checked, they do their job with finesse, speed, and efficiency. Really, she could not have asked for a better summoning clan.

The two slugs each had their own assignments—one must go to her home and assess the safety of her progeny, the other must go to the exit of the secret passage, in case Chiyome had deemed it necessary to use it. And as the seconds rolled by and she was left with nothing to do after directing most of her staff to the bulk of hospital matters plaguing this building even in the midst of a sneaky invasion, her anxiety gripped her heart like the invaders had surprised Konoha and its forces. She couldn't stop thinking for her children, wishing that they were okay, that they were away from harm, safe, hiding from the dangers—

"Tsunade-sama!"

She looked over her shoulder. One of the doctors was running from the opposite end of the corridor towards her. He was a little on the chubby side, sweat pouring from both sides of his face as he approached her with a clipboard in one hand. He handed it to her.

"What is it?" she asked, perusing the single paper on the clipboard briefly. All she was sure of was the signature of her sensei at the bottom. It was no doubt an official letter.

"An ANBU came to the entrance looking for you, ma'am." The doctor fished out a handkerchief and wiped his sweat. "I'm sorry if it got to you a little late." He, of course, was referring to his lack of speed and stamina. Hell, even an Academy student could outrun this guy and leave him in a trail of dust and sweat—_his_ sweat.

"Why didn't the ANBU give it to me personally?"

"They got their hands full as well. This invasion is spreading them thin, I believe."

"I doubt that, Junichi." She already finished reading the letter and was halfway through her second reading.

"Ma'am?"

"Never you mind." She took the paper out of the clipboard and pocketed it for later termination. "You have bigger concerns here. How's the evacuation?"

"Smooth and easy," Junichi replied, showing a relief smile, "just as you ordered, Tsunade-sama."

"Excellent. Then I'll leave the rest to you and Yusuke."

"Wha—?" Junichi's surprise was short-lived; what he lacked in the physical department, he made up for in the mental. It took half the time for his mind to process information compared to the other doctors under her supervision. And with that look in his eye, he already connected enough dots to grasp the severity of not only her leave but also the current state of the military force counterattacking their enemy. "Shall I keep this from the others, ma'am?"

She nodded.

"And if they ask where you are?"

"Just say it's classified."

"Yes, ma'am."

She grabbed his shoulder, gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. No words were said; both knew what she wanted to convey.

Junichi nodded once and paced back to where he came, his shoulders broader and his chin higher than before their brief conversation. She was proud; the hospital was in safe hands without her.

When her eyes returned to the window and peered out into the escalating war beyond, her stomach sank and her heart quickened with unhealthy speed. Hands clenching, brows rising to their limits, eyes brimming with shock as well as delayed fury, Tsunade cursed hospital protocols and jumped out the window.

In the distance, her home, the sanctuary of her two children, was set ablaze.

* * *

_**The Secret Chamber beneath Konohagakure no Sato**_

_**3:11 AM**_

Hiruzen Sarutobi adjusted his battle armor just as his feet touched the linoleum flooring of the underground meeting hall abandoned by time and disuse. The last time it had been filled with people, ninjas of high standing and importance, was roughly a decade ago when the war between Konoha and the other nations was reaching the lethal climax and finale. He could still remember where he sat, his analytical mind absorbing the many facts and intel scrounged up from scouts and enemy skirmishes; his hands shaking from twitchy nerves as information after information began to paint a bloody, macabre picture of their stance in the war; his face overflowing with hidden sweat as the underground location did nothing to slash off the summer heat above; his eyes darting from person to person, wondering if they were having the same thoughts as he had about this meaningless international tantrum brawl.

Yes, this place held many memories of a time he would rather forget, but as a ninja of Konoha, he was trained to cast aside selfish wants and beliefs for the greater good of the village as a whole. Being their Hokage also meant more selflessness on his part, and he had no qualms whatsoever about that.

This was Konoha, this was his home, this was his life.

He was not alone when he entered the Secret Chamber, as nicknamed by his comrades during his prime and before he became the Third. On both of his flanks were his old teammates, Koharu and Homura, donning their own sets of battle armor. They were old but not frail—God be with you if you dare say that to their faces. They had survived three wars since their induction into the Konoha ninja system, and though they were already in their retirement years and not exactly fit for physically demanding activities for a long period of time, they would still lay their lives on the line without hesitation.

The Secret Chamber was like an overly large meeting hall. Seats paraded the circular room in a downward slope starting from the edge to the center, where an elevated podium was erected for the Hokage and any speakers use to relay whatever speeches they have to say. That was the main purpose of the Secret Chamber, a secret within a secret kind of meeting wherein only the clan leaders and the Council could speak freely of village affairs and politics without including any of the lower ranks and representatives, who the most paranoid members suspect were spies and moles from Konoha's competitors ('enemies' was too strong of a word to use). It worked well enough during the Shodai's, the Nidaime's, and Hiruzen's own reign, but once he passed on the mantle to his successor, the Yondaime, the Secret Chamber was disbanded. Minato was ambitious, if not obsessed, of true peace talks between nations, but bad blood and suspicion were his obstacles from achieving that ultimate goal. One of his first steps after his inauguration into the Hokage was the disbandment of this very chamber. He believed it sparked distrust among the lower members, because there were already rumors milling about secret meetings between clan leaders and such, but that was not the only thing driving him to this decision. Minato had wanted the higher-ups to be open of their dealings—not _everything_, but most of them—to the public. It was met with mixed reactions from the clan leaders, positive reactions from the rest. Hiruzen, in his ability to foresee what was ahead for this momentous move, supported Minato throughout.

Now, just a decade later, he and his teammates were entering this chamber again. The air was stale and stagnant. Dust accumulated the tables, seats, and floor. The fluorescent bulbs supplying light into this windowless room were dim and, for some, blinking. This place lost its glory from before, and it would stay that way for a long time to come, it seemed. The three of them were here on special business because it was the only place the Uchiha had no idea of searching. The previous Uchiha clan leader had been old—and most definitely frail, Hiruzen noted with an odd sense of pride—and the only person who knew the existence of the Secret Chamber. Tradition dictated that he pass on the knowledge of this place's whereabouts to his successor, but the old crone didn't. He passed on the rights of clan leader to Fugaku a year _after_ the Secret Chamber's termination, and then died four months later. To tell the new clan head of this place was unneeded; for all he knew, this place had been destroyed. That was one part of the operation that had been cancelled at the very last moment. Hiruzen, Homura, and Koharu had no doubt that this room was safe as safe could be.

"We're here," Homura said, if a little needlessly. He surveyed the empty seats, spinning around. "But he isn't," he added.

"He'll be here," Hiruzen replied, adjusting his armor once again. It was a little tight around the gut. He'd rather not think about the implications.

"This place hasn't changed a bit," Koharu remarked, her small frown emphasizing the wrinkles on her forehead.

"It has never been touched since the last Shinobi war," Homura said. "Apart from the dust and the spiders, I'd say this place aged better than we did."

"Don't sell yourself short, my friend," Sarutobi replied, smiling. "We're here, aren't we?" The state of their dress was left unsaid. It went along with his words, silently.

"Yes," a fourth voice said, "we are here, indeed."

Hiruzen turned to look at the newcomer, who came through the door opposite of the one they came through. He was also dressed for battle, but Hiruzen couldn't help feeling he wasn't fit for the battlefield unlike the rest of them. He was short of an arm and an eye, and though Hiruzen knew that these handicaps wouldn't stop the man from living up to the threat he posed during _and_ after his prime, that little emotion called worry was begging inside his heart to speak out and coerce the man to reconsider his decision.

He squashed such niceties away. This was war, and they needed all the bodies they could acquire.

"So nice of you to honor us with your presence, Danzou." Homura pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose using his middle finger, coincidentally looking like he was flipping him the bird. It was most likely not out of coincidences, too, if the animosity between these two were as heated as they were when their hair did not yet gray up. Such petty ways to insult each other were never above them, and that might as well be the only comic relief between waves of morbid activities coming through them and their long lives. It was also the only thing Homura ever did to go against his serious, militant behavior.

If he noticed the subtle insult, Danzou didn't pay any heed to it. He looked at Sarutobi as he walked to the center. "The Uchiha clan have finally amassed their forces and attacked Konoha. I warned you, Sarutobi, that negotiations will turn sour the moment it was opined."

"I still had to try." Hiruzen noticed Homura keeping up his one-fingered salute and Koharu smacking him in the shoulder for his childish behavior. Hiruzen didn't smile, but he was doing it in his mind. "It's what our teachers taught us."

"'Draw your kunai and you have already lost the battle, no matter the outcome,' eh? The times are changing, Sarutobi. Such ideals do not hold merit to the younger generation anymore. They thirst for the sight and scent of blood and only come to think about peace once that primitive hunger is sated."

"I'll have to agree on Danzou for this one, Hiruzen," Koharu said. "We should've acted before the Uchiha had a chance to attack us."

"It's all behind us now," Danzou said. "We must do what we can to retaliate with extreme prejudice."

"Surely you don't mean—"

"Kill. Not maim, not disable, not incapacitate. _Kill_ every last one of the Uchiha." And when he meant 'every last one,' he meant _every_ last one, civilians and children included.

"That's genocide!" Hiruzen barked.

"Their fate is sealed." He tapped his cane once on the floor. His voice carried a frosty edge, reminiscent of when he said three words to his enemies before delivering the killing strike: _Requiescat in pace_. Latin. A dead language for dead men. "Tonight marks the point of no return for them. They will find no friends once this uprising reaches the other hidden villages."

"Won't our counterintelligence handle that?" Koharu asked.

"What counterintelligence?" Homura replied. "They're up there wreaking havoc right now."

She quietly conceded.

"The other hidden villages would find out eventually," Hiruzen remarked. "We need to minimize casualties and property damage as much as possible." He glared at Danzou. "Without resorting to massacring a clan."

Danzou hid his displeasure well, but he knew the man when he still had both arms and eyes intact, and it was easy to read even fleeting emotions and personal opinion through his subtle body movements.

"You can cut off the tree," Danzou said, his one eye half-lidded but quite alert, "but the roots will remain in the ground, bidding for time to regrow. Controlling the Uchiha is a lost cause now."

"We have to think of the village as a whole," Koharu said to Hiruzen. "The public will break all ties with the Uchiha if we let the clan live."

"Others will no doubt label the survivors as scapegoats," Danzou said. "I call it mercy if we wipe them all out now."

_That's some mercy_, Hiruzen thought wryly. "What's your opinion in all this, Homura?"

He nodded curtly, and spoke with a monotonous tone, "We spare the Uchiha clan, it's a violation of village security. We wipe out the Uchiha clan, rumors will spread through the continent that we personally included harmless, innocent clansmen in the obituary. We spare them and then banish them, we'd also be risking village security; who's to tell if they decide to sell village information to the enemy?"

"Sparing the clan will not help prevent turmoil in the village," Koharu said. "I hope you haven't forgotten how riled up the people were when Naruto Uzumaki still breathed after the sealing."

"Not all villagers rallied against me," he retorted.

"And that saved your ass from impeachment," Danzou muttered, no doubt intending to be heard nonetheless, but only Koharu reacted, opening her almost-closed eyes to glare at him, probably more for the use of crude language than the insult.

Hiruzen continued, "And that, more than anything, gives me hope that our village is willing to forgive and forget."

Danzou eyed Koharu for a moment before returning to meet the Hokage's gaze. "While we have different solutions for this . . . mess, I'm afraid that it's a bit late to tell my subordinates to lower the casualty rate."

Only one of the three sets of eyes widened. "Danzou!"

"It had to be done. With no official order from the Hokage at the time while our home is under attack, I did the right thing. No doubt the other ninjas are doing the same."

"I don't want innocent blood staining this village."

"The Uchiha don't share your sentiments," he replied harshly, tapping his cane again on the floor. "Earlier reports showed that the first three explosions were a hotel, a large apartment building, and an orphanage. They show no mercy; we must show none as well. My troops are now spread throughout the village, and I have four bodyguards with us in this room. They can relay whatever messages you wish to make."

"Messages?" Hiruzen asked. "What are you talking about? Aren't we going back up and help?"

"No and yes. We will help our men, but not directly." Something in Danzou's face made Sarutobi believe that he realized something. His unreadable gaze panned towards Koharu and Homura. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"Would he be here if we did?" Homura shot back.

"Hiruzen," Koharu called, ending his accusations before they could start, "we did this because you're the primary target the Uchiha will come after. Morale will dramatically drop if you die by their hands."

"Are you saying that I'm incapable of defending myself?" His eyes were glacier cold.

She hesitated, thought over a gentler approach than the one she originally intended to say. A heartbeat later, she said, "I'm saying that you're in a bad condition to fight. We're not about to risk your life because of your stubbornness."

"None of the Uchiha know of this place, so it's the perfect hideout," Homura added.

"I'm the Hokage. It's my duty to protect this village with my very life!"

"But you dying in the middle of this civil war will shake every bit of confidence our forces have." Koharu took a deep breath before continuing. "Losing you means losing our victory."

"So I'm just going to have to stay here, behind the frontlines?" He shook his head. "Inexcusable. I will not stand for this."

"See reason, Hokage-sama, and stay here. Let the younger generation take care of this problem."

"Our role now is to guide them," Homura added.

He stared into both eyes of his old teammates, neither one flinching at the icy gaze he threw at them. No matter, they were dead-set in having him stay here, safe and sound, while his men—his ninjas, his home—were taking and losing lives. Sarutobi was a man of action, and he just couldn't picture himself staying here and direct forces to strategic points of the village. He was well-versed in a strategy and tactics, but Shikaku Nara was a much better candidate than he could ever be. So no, this didn't sit well for him, not even the slightest.

"Homura, Koharu, Danzou," he called, "no matter how much you reason, I will not stay here."

Koharu stepped forward. "Hiruzen—"

"And I will not stand here and let you treat me like fragile glass while my men are up there"—he pointed to the ceiling—"fighting for their lives. Orders are only orders. They need their Hokage there fighting alongside them. The only ones that should kill are those who are prepared to _be_ killed!"

He turned his back to the three, shoulders high and fists clenched, and walked crisply to the exit. A hand on his right shoulder halted his forward momentum. He thought about harshly slapping the hand away, but the courtesies and niceties his parents and his mentors instilled in him during his youth destroyed that thought just a moment after it was created. The hand was calloused but not wrinkly. He and his teammates were already suffering skin degradation that came with having an advanced age, but Danzou seemed to have found a secret in delaying—if not hiding—the signs of an elder.

"We swore an oath to protect Konoha at all costs, didn't we, Hiruzen?"

He nodded. Another thought came to him: instead of slapping that wrinkle-free hand away, he would take hold of it and gently take away its firm grip on his shoulder. Courtesies and niceties returned and they chased that thought away, although with less enthusiasm.

"Do you remember what I told you when Nidaime-sama sacrificed his life to let us escape, when he appointed you his successor?"

He was halfway from nodding when that haze in his memory didn't clear out. He remembered Danzou telling him something after Tobirama-sensei showed his selfless determination, but the words had become jumbled and alien, as if they had converted into a foreign language. He wasted two seconds to force his mind to eliminate the haze, but the more he forced it, the hazier everything went. In the end, he shook his head.

Danzou didn't smile, didn't frown, but there was something in his one-eyed gaze that inferred he knew Hiruzen had forgotten.

"I told you, you didn't deserve to be Hokage because you'd be too soft, too compassionate to exact proper punishment to those who started that war. My opinion still hasn't changed."

"Danzou," Homura warned, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits, "hold your tongue."

"We're all friends here, Homura," he replied. "No need to be so tense."

"I have reason to be tense." He looked at the shadows of the room from the corners of his eyes, no doubt espying the hidden troops of Danzou's ROOT.

"But my opinions don't matter on the wider picture," Danzou continued. His hand, still on the Hokage's shoulder, tightened to a comforting squeeze before letting go completely. "Nidaime-sama chose you as his successor because he believed in you. The villagers believed in you, not just then but also now. I know that, above all, you do not want to stay here like a leashed dog when Konoha is being threatened."

"Then why stop me?"

"Because I love this village as much as you do, and I have no intentions of letting it fall to the Uchiha's hands."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Because there is no real need to answer it." He turned to Koharu and Homura, and said, "We won't stop him."

Koharu looked ready to protest, but a whispered word from Homura silenced her quickly. They'd been with Hiruzen for a long time, and as his advisors, they also knew how stubborn he could be when his mind was set on something. His love for the village couldn't be rivaled, and there was no doubt that if they tried to restrain the Hokage, they'd be facing minor treason even if it was for the best intentions. That, and Hiruzen would never forgive them.

"We lived a long life, everyone," Hiruzen said to everyone present, his smile almost seemed grandfatherly. "Don't you think it appropriate that we end it the way we started it?"

"Spoken like a true Hokage," Homura said, shaking his head mirthfully. "Koharu and I will stay here." He then smirked at Hiruzen. "We're better at strategizing anyway."

Snorting—he couldn't help himself—he walked back up the stairs. He would have to call in his ANBU guards once he stepped out of the secret passage. This civil war had to be stopped in the quickest way possible.

"I suggest killing the snake's head as your main priority, Hokage-sama," Danzou said, making him look over his shoulder. "If killing you would damage morale to us, killing the clan head would have the same effect to the enemy."

"That," he replied, his voice resonating in the slightly empty room, the shadows veiling allied eavesdroppers, but minding neither, "or the Uchiha will come at me with utter vengeance in their red eyes."

* * *

_**Konoha Market District**_

_**4:03 AM**_

An hour of fighting helped ease some of the pain of betrayal, but the way her lethal attacks spoke since she first came into the fray . . . easing found no place in her steady, remorseless hand. Body after body was sliced, pierced, stabbed, lacerated, everything that could be done with ninja weaponry, and Kurenai Hatake never batted an eyelash as blood flooded her vision and death rattles reached her ears.

There were no orders for lethal engagement, and at first she had been a little hesitant whether to take the Uchiha attackers alive or not, but when her husband, Kakashi, got pinned down by enemy shuriken the moment he stepped out to question the Uchihas' intentions, she beat Kakashi in bringing death upon them. They were only two people against a whole clan—this Kakashi picked up after they encountered four unprovoked attacks from ninjas of the same family—and with an ally becoming an enemy, Kurenai felt unsure about approaching other ninjas for help. This whole ordeal seemed surreal, a horrible nightmare manifested from the many rumors she heard in the kunoichi grapevine about a planned coup d'état. But reality breached the watery barrier of her self-inflicted illusions, almost like a perfect swan dive, and she steeled herself for more horrors to come.

About thirty minutes ago, the two of them had rendezvoused with a group of jounin who were guarding an entrance to the hidden shelters for civilians in case of invasions. Their hesitance reflected the jounin group, who believed that Kakashi, possessing the Sharingan, was in cahoots with the Uchiha's rebellion. It had been a tense standoff, but trust was somehow restored when the Hatake couple helped take out a wave of Uchiha policemen attacking from above the buildings around them.

Kurenai rested her winded body on the wall and then slid it down until her bum hit the cold concrete floor. The thin fabric of her pants made her distantly remember the lack of panties under them, making the feel of the cold stronger, but she didn't really give a damn. The bloody gash on her right shoulder was a bigger priority.

"Looks deep," the medic remarked, dabbing the wound with styptic and disinfectant.

"I can still fight," she said, gritting her teeth as the medic worked his magic inside chakra-coated hands. The three lacerations—courtesy of oversized ninja claws—were closing rapidly like leaves of a Sensitive Plant. All that was left was a tiny pang simmered down by a chakra-induced painkiller (something about numbing the nerves temporarily or something, Kurenai wasn't sure). Wounds and painkillers aside, she still needed to recuperate for a bit before she went back out to help the rescue effort.

"ETA?" she asked the medic.

"Fifty minutes, max. We still need to hold out till then."

"I just hope that backup will finally push these stubborn bastards back."

"I hope so too, Miss Hatake."

"What about the civilians?"

He cleared his throat. "My colleague just went down to check minutes ago. Last head count is at eighty-two."

"And how much can this shelter hold?" She already knew, but she wanted to be certain.

"A hundred and twenty, ma'am."

She turned to the entrance door, ajar but guarded greatly by the ninjas outside. It opened with force, slamming its edge to the concrete wall with a resonant _BANG_, and in came a chuunin with a brown pineapple-styled ponytail and a prominent scar running from cheek-to-cheek across the bridge of his nose. Following behind him was a small group of children with varying sorts of burns, scratches, torn clothes, and, most of all, soot. Survivors of the orphanage's explosion and probably even stragglers from homes that were set ablaze. All of their faces were grim, sad, confused, and afraid. The only thing keeping them together and orderly was the soothing voice of the chuunin directing them here. She didn't count when they started rolling into the building, but when they followed the beckoning chuunin to the lower floors where the other civilians resided, waiting, her head count exceeded twenty.

And as the last child disappeared from her view, the medic's female colleague climbed up the stairs, her eyes showing remorse at the file of kids that passed her. "That makes a hundred and eight."

Kurenai stood up, inwardly groaning as her sweating body discharged plenty of moisture while she had been idle, not only soaking her bum but also the pants that were now clinging to said bum like glue. It felt like having a wedgie, but not, at the same time. She made a show of swatting her bum as if to remove dust, but really adjusting the contours of the wet garment to make it more bearable and less noticeable.

"Don't strain yourself, ma'am," the medic said, earning him a raised brow. "Your face is a little red," he explained.

_Sure, my face is red because I'm under the weather_, she thought wryly, _and not because I feel like I've just pissed through my ass._

"Thanks for your concern, but I'll be all right." She turned to the female medic. "Keep everyone down there calm and don't stop other survivors from entering."

"It'll be overcrowded in no time," she retorted, just in time for another jounin to come in with another batch of survivors seeking refuge behind him.

"We need to secure as much villagers as we can. We're not abandoning anyone."

Surprised and a little shameful, the female medic—barely out of her teens, Kurenai observed—gave her a formal salute. Its meaning was simple to understand: Yes ma'am. And if a ninja responded to you with a formal salute, then there could be no doubt that they'd carry through with the order as if it were their life they betted on the line.

Kurenai returned the salute, nodded at the first medic, and sauntered out the building, closing the door behind her. She surveyed both her sides and the rooftops. It was clear, and the two guards protecting the entranceway gave her crisp nods before she sprinted up to the roof of the building in front.

Konoha looked more devastated than before she went inside to rest. From the distance she could still hear screams and cries, an assorted, broken orchestra of fear, death, and pain. Her husband was nowhere in sight, but she didn't stop looking. Survivors of the slaughter were scattering throughout the village, hiding in dumpsters, in abandoned houses, in their own houses (if it hasn't already been burned down). She spotted at least four groups of Uchiha ninjas leaping from rooftop to rooftop, hurtling kunai and shuriken to anything that moved. With their superior eyesight, the chances of missing a target or someone's presence were slim, if not none.

The lone group of three Uchihas at the northwest caught her eye when the tallest of them stepped towards the edge of the roof they were on, formed some handseals, and spat out a raging flame to the streets below. Her ears captured the frantic screams of the people, and—she was sure of this—there was even a baby's cry amongst them. She could tolerate no more of this, her mind rapidly processing current intel with inhuman accuracy for a tactical neutralization. In layman's terms, that fire-breathing bastard was her first kill in that group.

She would work her way around and eliminate as much Uchiha as she could, but she would only resort to that extreme when it was a matter of either self-defense or defending innocent villagers. No matter the circumstance, there was no love lost between her and the Uchiha clan. And that, more than anything, made sure to keep a part of her conscience relatively clean, all things considered.

Konoha was in danger. The Uchiha were the danger. Nothing else needed to be said.

* * *

**Chapter Afterword:**

"The only ones that should kill are those who are prepared to _be_ killed!" – Yes, I borrowed that line from the anime Code Geass. I still think Lulu is cocky, but he's one of those rare types who could both talk the talk and walk the walk. I've never been able to watch the whole series, but I still know how it started and ended. And that little quote speaks more truth than any other quote I've heard. Well, except for Bertrand Russell's "War does not determine who is right—only who is left."

And for those who are still wondering, yes, the Shadow Clone technique (or any clone technique) does _not_ exist in this universe. That means Naruto Prime is the only person capable of creating clones. What this would entail in the near future will be kept from the reader. I'm sure your vivid imaginations can bring up your own conclusions. Check next chapter's title and you might just have a hint. Anyway, this was a small detail I've already let slip to the winner of the KakaKure guessing game some chapters back, **Animal Arithmetic**. If you're reading this, **AA**, sorry it took this long to reveal it. I just had so much fun writing all that stuff from then to now. Hehehe.


End file.
